


I Don't Remember

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Scully reflects on her adventures with the boys.





	I Don't Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

I Don't Remember How It Happened by Merri-Todd Webster

I Don't Remember How It Happened  
by Merri-Todd Webster <>  
Part 1

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong not to me but to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. But you probably knew that already.  
This story is NC-17 and contains various combinations of m/f, m/m, m/f/m, and m/m/m sex. The first two parts are very het, but they're just the beginning of the story. If you have a problem with any of the above, or if you're not supposed to be here, just tiptoe away quietly and I won't tell anyone I saw you, okay?

* * *

*********  
I Don't Remember How It Happened  
by Merri-Todd Webster  
*********

I don't remember how it happened. I know that doesn't make any sense, but it's true. The details of how and why Walter Skinner and I were on the road together, leaving Fox Mulder in DC, are hazy in my mind compared to what happened later. 

There was a case, not an X-File, that required us both to give depositions. I remember that much. And it was in New York, Albany, I guess. We stayed in a nice hotel downtown, near the courthouse. We ate dinner together because there was nobody else. Maybe I drank too much wine, but all during dinner I was missing Mulder, thinking of that wistful puppy-dog look he got when he learned we were going away without him. And at the same time, I was watching the man across the table from me and feeling hot with lust. Lust.

Skinner was putting away a nice piece of salmon. I'd ordered the same thing, and it was delicious, but too much for me. While I gradually slowed down, picking over the fish, the green beans and basmati rice, Skinner wolfed his food, fast, hungry, precise. He had changed out of his work clothes into slacks and a polo shirt, a dark blue one. Not an overtly sexy outfit, but it stimulated the imagination: three-quarters of his arms exposed, a hint of his chest, his neck bare. I realized I was staring at his neck and thinking about things like tree trunks and stallions. He looked up at me suddenly, saw that I was looking at him, and it felt like he'd taken the chunky white candle that sat between us and thrown its hot wax in my face.

Mulder. Skinner. Mulder. I ate my chocolate mousse in a hurry--what I really wanted to do was tear open my blouse and pour it over my heated breasts. We went back to our rooms, adjoining rooms, and I threw myself into a tepid tub with my favorite scented oil and tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about Mulder, Skinner, satin sheets, and multiple orgasms. Like St. Augustine, I wanted to pray for chastity, but not just yet.

I couldn't sleep. Big surprise. I've never read an article in a medical journal that gave sexual frustration as a contributing factor in chronic insomnia, but I'll vouch for its being the main cause in my case. I'd lain awake so many nights, thinking of one or both of those men, wondering how many orgasms it would take to put me to sleep. And half the time, when I'd put away the vibrator at last and drifted off, the phone would ring. Mulder with his midnight quirks and midnight terrors. And I'd be just as bad off as before.

I must have approached the door between our rooms half a dozen times, trying to think of some pretext. If it had been Mulder, I'd have just gone in. We never lock that door. There are walls between us, but no locked doors. I'd have gone in, and if we hadn't had the courage to fuck ourselves senseless, we'd have spent the night talking together, me on the bed and Mulder on the floor, or both of us cross-legged on the bed. Mulder and I, we've raised not sleeping together to an art form.

But this was Skinner, Walter Skinner. My boss. Probably the most formidable man I've ever met, even more strong-willed than my dad. The only man other than my dad with a will like mine. Stronger than mine. If I went in there, dressed in my nightgown and robe, and he met me with that cold look of his, the one that seems to come from the glass lenses and not the eyes, the shame would hurt more than I could stand. I'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

And if he met me with desire, I might never belong to myself again.

I paced back and forth, splashed some cold water on my face. Hating myself. I don't believe every woman wants to be dominated, every woman wants to surrender to a man. But I could surrender to Walter Skinner. I could let go, unclench the iron grip I keep on life, shut down the wheels that are always turning in my brain, knowing that I could trust his control, trust his thinking. I could surrender and think with my cunt for the rest of my life. I'd thank him for mastering me. I'd hate it. And I still want him to touch me.

Lust. Lust is a sin. I turned around to go back to bed at last, and he knocked on the adjoining door.

My hands were shaking so badly, I could hardly turn the doorknob. I hadn't locked it, as if I were with Mulder. I clutched my robe across my chest and blinked up at him, trying to look sleepy. "Sir?"

He's wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Oh, god! Those legs. Mulder's adorable, but he has legs like a stork's. The treetrunk simile comes to mind again as I glance down at Skinner's legs. And he's not wearing his glasses.

"Ah, Agent Scully." He hesitates. "Did I wake you?"

I want to lie and say yes, but I open my mouth and, "No, sir. I've been--having trouble sleeping."

He nods. "Me, too. I, ah, I was wondering...."

Wondering what? Wondering if you were awake, too, Scully? Wondering if you're as horny as I am? Wondering if you can't sleep for thinking of the half-naked body on the other side of this thin wall, just like me?

I finally look up and meet his eyes. Without the shielding glasses, they are dark, steady, smoldering. And he isn't scowling; relaxed, his face looks years younger. Walter Skinner. Not my boss, the AD. Just Walter Skinner.

I say, "Yes."

He blinks at me. Puzzled. Then his face shifts, something in it softens that I've never seen soften before, and I see his understanding and his hunger in the instant before he takes me in his arms.

It's not a crushing, dominating kiss, though I'd welcome it if it were. Anything, anything from him. His chest, his arms, his back are as hard and absolutely unyielding as his will, and hot, and a little damp. And the smell of him goes straight to my crotch, and he's kissing me. Firmly but gently, his lips surprisingly soft, his tongue reaching out to be invited and to invite me. His hands spread out over my whole back.

When he raises his head, he looks at me, silent, poised to let me go. "Yes," I say again, feeling like Molly Bloom, and move away from him, but only to back into the room and lead him after me. With a sharp push, he closes the door.

I go into Skinner's arms again, trying not to think of Mulder. He molds me against his body, and with that touch, I know it's going to be good. Most of my lovers have made one of two mistakes. Either they've tried to dominate me because I've scared them and they need to compensate, or else they've treated me like spun glass because I'm physically small. I know already that Skinner is going to do neither. He's not afraid of me, and he's not afraid of hurting me. The second kiss is more forceful, wet and a little rough, and I respond the same way, letting him know what I need and want.

His mouth leaves mine and roves over my cheek, my ear, down my throat to where my robe lies over my shoulders. "Dana," he whispers, carefully, as if my name might break, or break something. I shrug just enough to bare a few inches of skin and signal him that he can take the robe off. He does, his lips following the fabric along my shoulder, then back across my collarbone and down to the lacy trim of the nightgown.

I shake off the robe and then start to lower the thin straps of the gown. Skinner--Walter takes over from me, smoothing them down my arms until he has to pull the lace over my breasts. I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction with the inevitable foolish tension. Will I please him? Will he still want me when he knows what he's getting?

As the nightgown slips down my body, Walter follows it, sinking to his knees in front of me. His face stops at the same level as my chest. "Oh, god, Dana," he breathes. "So beautiful."

I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I grab his shoulders to steady myself and let myself feel everything, every bit of it, as he explores my breasts with his lips and tongue. His hands glide over my ass, up and down my back, and I sway with his touch. It feels so good, so good when he finally closes his mouth over an aching nipple and sucks firmly. I whimper and just about topple over.

My fantasies start to come true when Walter picks me up, effortlessly, carries me to the bed, and puts me down gently. It's obvious that lifting me was no more of an effort than lifting a stack of file folders or a grocery bag. He strips for me, almost arrogantly, and then waits a moment before getting onto the bed, letting me see him as he saw me. What can I say about Walter Skinner's body? The body not of a desk jockey, a paper-pusher, but of an ex-soldier who spends every spare moment working out, pushing himself, honing his physique. Large, broad, exquisitely muscled, covered with dark hair like a pelt, and graced with exactly the sort of cock you'd imagine, both long and thick. Big, all over.

The bed sinks underneath him, and he covers me, completely. There are no words, just groans from both of us. My nipples sinking into the hair on his chest. His thigh and his cock sliding between my thighs. Clutching one another and our mouths fusing, maybe not to separate ever again.

I sigh reluctantly when Walter ends the kiss. He nudges against me, and I realize that when I first saw him naked, a few minutes again, he wasn't fully erect. Now he is, and he feels so large that I'm actually a little nervous. Maybe he senses that; he covers one breast with his hand, brushing his palm over the tip, and just says, "Let me." I know what he means, and I nod. Let him make love to me; let him be the aggressive one. For now.

I close my eyes and let him. Unlike some men I've been with, he's obviously in no hurry. I've always been amused by men who treat having an erection as a medical anomaly to be treated and cured *immediately*, instead of a pleasurable sign of further possibilities of pleasure. Walter's cock rubs gently against me, hard and velvety and gradually moistening at the tip, but his mouth is wandering over my throat and my breasts at a leisurely pace. When he covers one nipple with his mouth and gets his thumb on the other one, a terrific jolt goes through me, right to my clit. I feel like I've been shocked open inside and must be gushing all over his leg. I hear myself whimpering as I push myself into his mouth and onto his thigh, and he knows--he knows, he doesn't stop, he won't stop until I come....

And I do, throwing my head back, shuddering, trying to say his name but I can't as the contractions go through me.

Walter lets up only when I'm limp in his arms and panting. He raises his head, and he's actually smiling, looking pleased and a little smug.

"I've heard that's possible, but I've never seen it happen." He kisses me lightly. "I want to make it happen again."

His hand runs down my side, over my stomach, and dips between my legs. He removes his leg to lie beside me rather than on me, and I spread my thighs for him, eager, almost begging. I *would* beg, if I had to, but he won't make me. Please, don't make me....

His fingers comb through my fur and tug gently at my swollen clit. I jump beneath that touch and open my legs still wider. Please-- Walter circles over my clit, dips into the wetness trickling from me, spreads it over the hard little knot. How many men know there are as many nerves in the clitoris as in the penis, concentrated into a much smaller space? This man seems to know. He touches me carefully, letting me show him whether I want more aggressive stimulation. Oh, god, I do. My hips move in circles that counterpoint his hand's circling, harder, harder, yes that's it-- Is that Dana Scully growling like a bitch in heat while a man rubs roughly, harshly over her erect clit? You bet it is. Feral noises roll from between my clenched teeth, coming from low in my throat. The sound jumps two or three octaves when he thrusts two fingers into me.

Careful again. Thumb on my clit, fingers stilled inside me while my muscles flutter around them. So close to orgasm. "You're so tight," he whispers. "So hot, so wet." He moves his fingers slowly, making incredibly erotic squishing noises. "Hear how wet you are?"

"Uh-huh." I push onto his hand, imploring, inviting.

"Do you want to come again, Dana? Will you come again for me?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"What do you want? What's the best way to make you come?"

Walter turns his head to look at me. I can see by his expression tha he's not just teasing me with sex talk; he really wants to know. I tell him.

"Fuck me with your fingers, Walter. Fuck me hard."

Nobody has ever done this for me. They've all been too afraid of hurting me. But Walter is completely confident in his own strength and in mine. I come for the first time with his first forceful thrust into my cunt, and I keep on coming as he gradually fucks me harder and faster. It's been so long, it feels like even his fingers are stretching me; my inner walls ripple around him, grabbing, stroking, savoring the pounding he's giving me. I arch into his hand, my body demanding more, my thoughts nothing but animal pleasure voiced in grunts and growls. I yowl in protest when he suddenly pulls out and works my clit mercilessly, and when he slams back in, I scream loud enough to shatter the windows.

When I can hear again, I hear Walter laughing. My stomach tightens, but the expression on his face is awed rather than mocking or derisive. "You are incredible, Dana Scully. Why did I never guess that you'd excel at sex the way you do at everything else?"

That makes me laugh, too, and for a few minutes, we just hold one another, giggling and chuckling. My insides are pulsing softly with aftershocks, but I feel great--and I want more as certainly as he does. When I start to caress him, however, Walter pulls away.

"My turn," he reminds me. "But you *can* do something for me."

Anything. "What's that?" I allow myself to run my hand over his rough scalp and thin hair.

He gives me a long, melting kiss before answering. "Sit on my face," he replies huskily, "so I can eat your pussy."

Just the request is almost enough to give me another orgasm. How many times have I come tonight? How many more times will he make me come before I take his cock? He slides down the bed, dragging one pillow under his head, and I kneel carefully over him, my knees by his shoulders, his hands on my bottom coaxing me down.

"Oh, yesss...." Did I say that, or did he? Walter runs his tongue slowly, languorously over me, caressing every fold. I feel like I'm gushing into his mouth with renewed arousal. He grips my ass firmly, tightly, and tastes me gently, and the contrast makes me tremble. His tongue delves into my vagina, in and out, at a tantalizing pace, then runs up the cleft to swirl around my clit so insistently that I cry out. Another climax. This man is incredibly good, but that isn't everything. It's not just his skill, it's the fact that I've lowered my barriers for him, the fact that I trust him now. I trust him as much as I trust Mulder.

I thrust away the image of Mulder's mouth on my pussy, Mulder's head between my thighs, and look down at Walter, at his closed eyes. I'm rocking helplessly back and forth over his mouth, whimpering and pleading for something his mouth can't give me. No one would ever guess that Dana Katherine Scully likes to be fucked, that she likes it better, in fact, than being eaten, which is totally unlike most women, but totally true. Only Walter guesses, Walter knows. He pushes himself up toward the headboard a couple of inches so he can talk. My honey is glistening on that hard, stern mouth.

"Sit on my cock, Dana. Take me in."

I reach behind me, find him, stroke him. Oh dear god, he is huge. I want every inch of it. "I want you on top."

He speaks quietly, patiently. "Dana. I know how close I am, and what I can take. It'll last longer if you get on top first. I won't need to come until I do have you underneath me. Please."

Please. Not I but Walter said it. He said please. I slither down his body, kissing his chest in passing, straddle his hips, and grasp his cock to guide him in.

"Oh, yes. Take me in. Fuck me, Dana. You can do it."

His face is strained, tense, yet oddly calm. I settle my weight cautiously onto his shaft, pushing down by centimeters. I'm as wet and as open as I can ever remember being, but his cock stretches me. I feel it on every inch of my vaginal walls. I tilt my hips and push, spiraling down on him. Walter doesn't move, not at all; he's totally still while I take him.

And I do take him, all of him. I can hardly believe it, but I feel his pubic hair brush my clit, his balls beneath my ass. He opens his eyes and looks at me. "You are *so* beautiful," he hisses. "Take me. Take what you want."

I rock my hips back and forth in tiny increments, getting used to the fullness inside me. His hands knead my breasts. Just having his cock in me is opening me up, making me wetter; I feel the tension release, inside, so I can move more boldly. My rocking motions turn to figure-eights. His grip on me tightens as I take more, give more. His thumbs on my nipples set off another sharp internal explosion. Walter groans. "Oh, yeah. I want to feel you come like that. I want to feel it all over my cock."

And he wedges his fingers between our bodies, finding and pressing my clit. Gasping, I teeter forward, brace my hands on his chest; my hips are bucking wildly, out of control, driven by the pressure on my clit joined with the pressure inside me. Growling again, feral, wanton, and Walter saying, "Yes, come for me, yes, that's it, come--"

I fall forward on his chest, panting. His arms come around me, and he turns us both over, his cock never leaving my pussy. When I'm comfortably on my back, I wiggle closer and wrap my legs around his waist. Now *Walter* growls, and somehow he changes position so he sinks in deeper, splitting me open, hitting my core.

He holds still and speaks through clenched teeth. "You want it hard, Dana?"

I drag in breath and clench myself around him. "You don't have to hold back."

It's hard and it's fast and I can't believe how long it lasts. We're both grunting and sweating and I answer every stroke, matching his pace. And coming again, two, no, three times, before he slams into me so hard my head almost hits the wall, and *roars*, and lets go.

I hold myself still as he fills me in long spurts, watching his face, watching it tense up and then dissolve. He collapses on top of me, at last, hot and sweaty and musky-smelling and wonderful. I know I'll be sore, later, but I don't care. And then suddenly I realize I'm crying.

*********

My cock shriveled up inside her when I realized she was crying.

A minute ago I was the happiest I'd been in--had it really been years? Holding this incredible woman in my arms, our bodies still connected, both of us completely satisfied. Now I felt like shit, hearing her sobbing and feeling her shake underneath me.

"Dana, what is it? Dana? Did I hurt you?"

The tears were pouring down her face, but she shook her head, quickly, in answer to my question. I dragged myself off of her, feeling like my own body was a corpse I was hauling, and tried to take her in my arms. My stomach wrenched as she turned away from me and sat up, almost sobbing and trying to hold it in. Her smooth white back with its coiled tattoo mocked me. I hesitated for a moment before putting my hand on her back. Thank god, she didn't flinch or pull away, so maybe it wasn't something I did. I stroked her and tried to think about comforting her, not about how good her skin felt under my hand.

"I'm sorry, sir." That word "sir" made my heart freeze up, after I'd just come inside her. Scully groped for the box of tissues on the bedstand, her tears under control now, and wiped her face. I had to grin as she blew her nose thoroughly, sounding like a little girl. Then she turned around to face me, crossing her legs under her and meeting my eyes. That was the Dana Scully I knew and loved--always brave enough to face what threatened her.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She stopped to blow her nose one last time. "I--" she swallowed, "Walter, please believe me. I wanted this. I asked for it. And I don't have any regrets." A tiny smile curved her lips, which I answered. "Although I will if I can't walk in the morning. It's just that--" She broke off, looking hurt, apologetic, confused, all at once; ran her hands through her hair--sweet-smelling hair that had fallen over my face when she'd collapsed on top of me--then threw them up helplessly. "It's just that--well, I know you'll misunderstand this, but--I feel like I've been unfaithful to Mulder."

I had to look away from her for a moment before I could ask the question. "Are you two lovers, Dana?"

"No." My chest loosened up a little, though she was smiling oddly. "I love Mulder, by any definition of the word. I know he loves me. He's my best friend as well as my partner; we're so close, emotionally, I know we act more like lovers than like friends, but--" She shrugged, her eyes glistening again. "We've never even kissed like lovers. I've wanted to. Wanted *him*. Just like I've wanted you. I don't know if he feels the same way. Until tonight, I wasn't sure if you felt what I was feeling."

I grimaced. "I wasn't sure, either. In fact, I was sure you and Mulder--" I stopped, swallowed. Scully moved over and tucked herself into my arm, propped on one elbow with her hand on my chest. I covered that hand with my own.

"I've wanted you," I said hoarsely. I've never been good at talking about my feelings, better at showing them in action. Better still at hiding them, burying them under stone. "Wanted to touch you, make love to you. Wanted to protect you, take care of you when you were sick. I envied Mulder because he could get closer than I could; he could walk into your apartment any time he liked and fuss over you, until you threw him out." She smiled, stroking my chest. "The hell of it is--" Her eyes were focused sharply on me. "I don't know how-- I mean I hope I don't--"

"--But you feel the same way about Mulder as you do about me."

I actually just looked at her with my mouth hanging open. Her smile had turned... wicked. "How did you know?" I managed finally.

Dana sighed. "I don't know," she replied. "I just--well, you were 'sure' about me and Mulder. *I* was sure that you and he were involved, that he loved me but preferred men. That would explain a lot of things." Suddenly her eyes lit up. "What if--what if Mulder's been 'sure', too? What if *he* thinks you and I have been involved?"

"What do you mean?"

Now the smile was goofy, covering her whole face and making her look like a little girl. "What if *Mulder's* been pining for both of *us*?"

Two days ago I would have dismissed that possibility as more far-fetched than Mulder's "spooky" theories. And two days ago, I would have sworn I would never, ever tell another soul how I felt about these two agents, much less be naked in bed with one of them and desperately craving to come inside her a second time.

At the moment, however, I was sporting an erection there was no hiding, Dana Scully was draped warmly over me with her breasts practically in my face, and I had no doubt whatsoever that she could find out what Mulder wanted and/or persuade him to want the same thing we did.

"Do you always call him 'Mulder'?" I asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to distract myself from my increasing arousal.

She nodded. "He almost always calls me 'Scully'. Except when he's afraid for me...."

"Dana," I said firmly, trying to distract *her*, make her think of me again. She looked down at me, smiled, and put all her attention on me once again as she put her small, strong hand on my cock.

I couldn't help myself--I thrust hard into her hand. "Let me," she whispered, and her eyes became the only thing I saw as she bent to kiss me.

They call her the Ice Queen. But she was flame, pure flame, moving over me slowly and surely with a heat that healed instead of burning. Heat of her hands, her mouth, her tongue, her brilliant eyes, her silky hair. Playing with my nipples until I thought that, like her, I might just come from that touch alone. Tracing the faded scars and making me feel like they'd disappeared under her finger. Learning the textures of my chest, arms, thighs, belly. Humming over me softly like a sorceress chanting a spell.

She knelt between my thighs holding my cock in her hand. Her smiling mouth was poised just above the head. More than anything, I wanted to see those moist, full lips close around my cock and suck it in. She touched me just behind the head with the tip of her tongue. I hissed as my cock jerked wildly.

"Please," I gritted out.

She must have been hoping I'd say that, because her mouth came down on me right away. I can't believe I didn't come instantly. There was no way she could take all of it in her mouth, and she didn't try, but she made up for it by what she did--the way her tongue swirled over me, the way her lips brushed my skin, the way her nails grazed my thighs as she braced herself over me. I'd never seen a woman who seemed to enjoy sucking cock without making a brazen show of it like a hooker or a porn star, the kind of overacting that lets you know she's trying to cover her disgust, but I was seeing it now. Dana Scully was... having fun. Enjoying savoring me. Enjoying giving me pleasure. And giving me so much pleasure that I was suddenly--

I pushed her away, more roughly than I meant to. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I was damned close."

She licked her lips. "I wouldn't have pulled away," she said huskily.

I pulled her onto me and ran my hand over her hair. "It's not that. It's just that I'm not a teenager any more. Two orgasms a night is a lot for me, and I want that second one to be for you, too."

I rolled her over underneath me, settling my hips between her legs. She wound her arms around my neck and kissed me so thoroughly I could taste myself in her mouth. When she let go, I moved down to suckle her breasts, using my teeth on her, carefully, and then down further to lick her clit again, make sure she was ready for me. She tasted of my come as well as her own arousal, and she was more than ready. "Please, Walter, fuck me. I'm fine, I'm ready."

I sucked hard on her clit and then thrust my fingers into her. That was all it took for her to come, making that delicious growling noise she makes. I'd never get tired of hearing that. Yes, she was ready. I pulled my hand away and gently worked three fingers into her cunt, opening her still further.

"I'm going to fuck you," I promised. She writhed imploringly against my hand. I withdrew and knelt between her legs, lifting them over my shoulders and drawing her closer. "I'm going to fuck you for a long time, Dana Scully."

Her hands reached for me, guided me in. Her face was ecstatic. "You're so big," she groaned. "God, it feels so good."

I rolled my hips against hers until every inch of me was buried in her. "Oh, yes," I responded, "so good. Hot, wet, tight...."

I drew back and thrust, not hard, and she exploded again, her head thrashing from side to side. Flame, I thought again, and gave her a few more strokes. "Do you like it, Dana? Do you like getting fucked?"

"Yesss...," she answered, a desperate hiss of pleasure through clenched teeth.

"And what about this?" I pressed her clit between my thumb and forefinger. Her only answer was a fierce scream as her pussy clamped down on my cock like a vise.

"That's it, Dana," I crooned, watching and feeling her come repeatedly as I massaged her clit. "Just let go. Let yourself lose it. You don't have to be a lady right now. You don't have to be in control. You're just a woman who needs to get fucked." I thrust firmly into her and she whimpered. "And I'm your lover, and I'm going to give you what you need."

At my age it isn't easy to come twice in a couple of hours. I knew it was going to take me a long time, and I was going to take advantage of that fact and wear her out. To be blunt, she needed a good fucking, and so did I. She didn't fight or beg or try to take over; she let me do what I wanted, let me torture her with pleasure. Sometimes I went fast and sometimes I went slow. Sometimes I pounded into her as hard as I could, driven on by her repeated yes, yes, and sometimes I moved with agonizing gentleness, ignoring her pleas for more. I lifted her and changed our position more than once, taking her from the back, front, side, lying on her stomach, held upright in my arms. I fucked her until she was all flame, vibrating continuously in my grasp, beyond words or thoughts or emotions, nothing but sensation and the will to finish what we had started.

Finally, when I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, and neither could she, I got her on her hands and knees. She was so gorgeous, raising her ass for me, her red, swollen folds like some fantastic orchid, ready for whatever I could give. I spread her with my hands and went in an inch at a time, holding her hips so she couldn't shove back against me. Her breathing was hoarse, tired, but she wasn't finished, she wanted more.

When I started to move, she moved with me, moaning almost inaudibly. I covered her breasts with my hands, driving her crazy; she couldn't keep her rhythm, but I kept mine. "I'm going to come soon, Dana," I whispered. "And you're going to come with me. Oh, yes, you're going to come again. I know you are." I pulled on her nipples, so close--I needed her orgasm to bring on mine. She whimpered and said my name, brokenly. I got my fingers on her clit and it happened.

I can't really remember that final orgasm. It was too intense, for both of us, I think. It was like seeing fireworks go off right in front of me, blue and red and gold, and being able to throw myself into them, burning up cleanly and joyfully in their beauty.

*********

I wonder if Scully guesses how intently I watch her. I never miss anything. I can tell you how many suits she has for work and what color pumps she wears with each one. I always know when she has a run in her stocking. One look at her face in the morning, and I know how she's feeling--I got really good at that when she was sick, but I learned to do it well before her illness.

So when she came back from New York, I knew right away she'd gotten laid, and laid good. She was glowing--no, incandescent. The look on her face was perfectly normal, and the way she acted--Hey, Mulder, what'd you get into while I was gone?--but there was just no hiding that glow, except maybe under a chador. Scully on fire with the afterglow of about fifty orgasms--enough power to light up all of DC, and maybe Baltimore and Annapolis, too.

I wanted to throw up. Between being glad to see her again, regardless, and miserable that I'd missed my chance, that Skinner had gotten to her like I feared, I could barely keep my breakfast down. I tried to act normal and probably did a lousy job of it. She was watching me, looking at me measuringly the way she would an interesting cadaver--let's scope out Mulder and try to figure out where his head is today. Lucky for me, at least we didn't have to go out of the office, just catch up on paperwork. Yeah, lucky for me, even with my back to her, I could feel the heat coming off of her.

She was wearing a cream-colored suit and pumps over a teal blue blouse. The combination did incredible things for her hair and eyes. She was so bright, it hurt to look at her. I kept stealing glances, drawn to that glow and disgusted by it at the same time.

It was pushing lunchtime when she finally dropped a stack of folders, *thwack*, on her immaculate desk and said, "What's the matter, Mulder?"

I swiveled around in my chair and showed her no mercy, no more than she had shown me. "Was it a good fuck, Scully? Something out of the ordinary?"

Scully's face darkened like a major storm front. I was in for it now. "What the hell gives you the right to ask?"

That's one of the things I love about Scully. Most women would have tried to cover their dirt, evade any questions. Not her. She takes it right on the chin and swings right back, as hard as she can.

"I love you, Scully."

Oh Jesus Christ, did I really say that? Right here in the office, where Cancerman and all his buddies can probably hear it? The thing I didn't say, made myself *not* say, when I thought she was dying--

Maybe it was the right thing. Her face went from storm front to a break in the clouds in no time at all. "I know you do, Mulder." She gave me one of those smiles I live for, the ones I get maybe every six or eight months, and leaned on the edge of my desk right beside me. "Don't you know I love you, too?"

Shit, I was ashamed of myself, but I started crying. I bent over the desk, wanting more than anything to put my head in her lap like I had that night in the woods. She put her hand on the back of my neck, half on bare skin and half on my hair, but she didn't say anything until I'd got control of myself.

"Mulder," she said softly. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and made myself look up at her. "Have you thought Skinner and I were--involved?"

I nodded. "You wanna know what *I* thought?" I nodded again. Wicked little smile. "I thought *you* and Skinner were involved."

Oh, shit. She noticed. She noticed I'd been *looking* at him.

I couldn't say anything. I just sat there, staring straight ahead of me, feeling her eyes on my face. Well, what made me think I could hide anything from this woman? She can always see right through me. That's one of the reasons I love her.

Presently Scully cleared her throat a little. "Mulder, let's not just sit here. Let's talk."

I shook my head. "I don't think I can do it, Scully. Not here. Not in the office."

"Then come home with me tonight." Her eyes glinted a little and she went on, "I'll make dinner. And we can talk."

I nodded again. "Okay. We'll talk."

*********

I followed her home in my car. Scully drives fast. When we got back to her place, she headed for the kitchen, still in her pumps, to check the fridge and the cabinets. I hadn't taken a piss in hours--afraid she'd vanish while I was out of the room--so I spent blissful long minutes in her bathroom. When I came out, she had already changed into a sweatshirt and jeans. I didn't care; she always looks gorgeous to me.

"I can thaw a couple of steaks in the microwave, do some potatoes and veggies. How's that?"

"Great." Definitely the best meal I'd had all week.

I followed her into the kitchen. It was as clean and well ordered as the pathology labs where she cuts up the intriguing dead on my behalf. It always is. I sat down and watched her go about cooking dinner with the calm efficiency she brings to everything. The potatoes were scrubbed while the steaks were thawed. Then the potatoes went in the microwave while the steaks went into the broiler. She rummaged around in the crisper for a minute, giving me a great view of her rear, and came up with a box of mushrooms in one hand and a bag of carrots in the other. The veggies went out on a clean white cutting board; out came a gleaming knife, and the carrots and mushrooms yielded their flesh to the expert hand of Dr. Dana Scully.

I've wondered sometimes why she didn't go into surgery, or private practice. I bet she'd make a great surgeon, or a great pediatrician. And then I wonder where I would be if she had. Probably six feet under and long forgotten.

"Wanna open a bottle of wine? There's a Pinot Noir over there." She cocked her head at the pantry.

I fumbled over the bottle of wine, hearing the neatly diced vegetables sizzle on the stove. By the time I got it open, set the table, and poured out two glasses, everything else was just about ready. Smooth, Mulder, you're big enough to set the table.

The food and the wine were so good neither of us said anything for a while. Scully cooks as well as she does everything else. Even the vegetables were good, and sunflower seeds or green pepper on pizza is as close as I usually get to plant-based foods. I finished my steak and was pushing around a second helping of potatoes on my plate, trying to decide if I really wanted them, when she said, "Eat your vegetables, Mulder. You need them."

She was giving me that little twist of her lips that makes me want to kiss her senseless, leave teethmarks on her. I suspected she knew the effect she was having on me. "Yes, Dr. Dana," I replied. I piled potatoes *and* carrots with mushrooms on my fork and shoveled a large heap into my mouth.

I know I must have looked like a chipmunk--that's what I had in mind--and sure enough, Scully started giggling. I found out a long time ago that, as long as we're not on duty, I can always make her laugh. Not to mention more than half the wine was gone already. I chewed, she giggled, wiggling on her chair, and I pondered whether to show her a mouthful of chewed food. Well, it wouldn't really bother somone who does autopsies, would it?

When she recovered, she poured both of us more wine. "I could dish up some ice cream, if you want."

"Not necessary. I had my junk food for the week while you were gone." Her face changed and so did my mood. "How did it happen, Scully?"

She slowly shook her head. "It just... happened. The door was open, was unlocked, between our rooms...."

Just like us, I thought, but I couldn't say anything yet.

"He knocked on the door, and I said yes."

"Molly Bloom."

She nodded.

"Was it good?" I just asked the question, no taunting. She blushed--a gorgeous sight--and nodded. Then she struck.

"Mulder, if you had been in my place, what would you have done?"

I blinked. "You mean like if Skinner had come into my room dressed in, say, a t-shirt and shorts, and giving off big sexual vibes?"

"Uh-huh."

"Never happen."

"That's what you think." She grinned.

"Wait a minute, what're you saying?" I gulped some wine. "That Skinner has the hots for me?"

Scully nodded.

"You're crazy."

"Mulder, the man said it to me himself. And not to be too graphic, but he said so right after he'd just had sex with me." Her eyes dropped. "Because I admitted to feeling like I'd been unfaithful to you."

I tried to take this all in. Not one but two people that I adore, so to speak, want to get naked with me. No, Mulder, you do not get that lucky. Not in this lifetime.

I must have been shaking my head, because she asked, "You think I'm lying, Mulder?"

"No! I just--"

"You think you're not lovable? Desirable?" She got up, drained her wine, and carried her glass and plate to the counter. Then she turned on me so hard you'd have thought she had a gun in her hands.

"How would you feel if I told you I've wanted to kiss you since the first time we met? Your mouth is a sex crime waiting to happen."

The mouth in question fell open. It's not like people haven't told me similar things before, but to hear it from Dana Scully--

"Or that I wanted to make love to you that night on our first case? When I asked you to check the spots on my back, and you talked to me about Samantha. Remember that?"

Of course I remember that. That was the day I got a reason for living other than finding Sam.

She advanced on me, looming over me just a little since I was sitting down. "How would you feel if I told you you could have me, right now? Right here on the table, or the counter?"

I looked up into those incredibly intense eyes. "You'd have to clear the table first, Scully."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Unlike you, I have a bed."

I cleared my throat. "*Are* you telling me all this, Scully?"

"Actually, yes."

"Then I'd have to say I feel extremely turned on."

Scully bent over about six inches and pressed her lips to mine.

********

Would you believe me if I told you I'd never kissed my partner, kissed her lips? Believe it, it's true. Come in my own hand thinking about it, yeah, but not done it. Not even after the Eddie van Blundht fiasco. God, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die after that one. Well, not quite. But it was damned embarrassing.

She kissed me. Dana Katherine Scully kissed me. I sound like a teenager. Have I mentioned she does everything well? Kissing is no exception. She's thorough, conscientious, and exceptionally talented. And extremely kissable in return.

I vaguely remember sort of gliding to my feet, hanging on to her lips with mine. Then I got my arms around her, which made hanging on a lot easier. Feeling her breasts against my chest got me hard so fast it hurt. I thought I could live with the pain, though. Her strength and softness and Scully and Pinot Noir and everything, knowing she'd been with Skinner, knowing she could be mine, right now. I could be hers. Sweet mouth.

I think I was the dizzy one when the kiss was over. She smiled up at me, a new smile I hadn't seen before. Definitely a fuck-me smile, and much, much better than my fantasy version of same. "Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?"

"You wanna do it?"

"'Do it'? Scully, that's so juvenile--"

Yanking my head down for a fierce kiss. Wow, she bites. "Would you like to join me in the bedroom so we can fuck ourselves senseless, Agent Mulder?"

"Uh, sure...."

I half expected her to carry me there. I'm sure she could have, but she allowed me the dignity of walking. She went ahead of me into the bedroom and snapped on the lights. Neat, cozy room, lamps with pretty shades, the bed piled with cushions and a thick comforter--a nice haven for a tired woman to hide in, read a good book or eat a pint of ice cream.

I realized I was scared. Scared shitless, just about, and trembling. I've had nightmares become reality, but never the good dreams. I wasn't sure I could deal with this. Scully was smiling at me, one of her Mona Lisa smiles, primal woman fascinating the idiot cave man. I hoped I wasn't drooling, but I think I was.

"Mulder," she said softly, cocking her head. I tried to move toward her, but I couldn't. I was stuck.

Still smiling, Scully took hold of the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. I swear to God I closed my eyes. After a moment I opened them and took a peek. Oh dear god. Hair disheveled, sweatshirt dangling from her fingers, teal blue bra against perfect creamy skin. She let the sweatshirt drop and unbuttoned the jeans. I took a very ragged breath. Whisper of the zipper going down, more teal fabric in the shadows, and then a wiggle that made my cock scrape my fly, getting the jeans over her hips and bottom. She stepped out of them and toward me. Venus in teal. Yes, this woman is perfect. I always knew it.

Why do I feel so helpless when she's the one looking up at me? She pursed her lips. "Do you want me to undress you, Mulder?"

"I think I can handle it, Scully." Actually, my fingers were shaking so bad she had to see, but Scully is merciful and didn't comment. I'd already shed my jacket, shoes, and tie in her living room; when I stepped out of my pants, toward her, her breasts brushed up against me.

That must be when I grabbed her and kissed her so hard I saw stars. Velvet skin under my fingers and against my chest, my stomach. Sweet smell of her hair, evergreen and lavender. Strong fingers in my hair and then running down my back, lighting up my nerves like a pinball machine. Hungry mouth, warm and wet and just as hungry as I was.

I broke the kiss when my fingers found the clasp of her bra and undid it. I stepped back and slowly peeled the bra forward, down her arms. Scully threw back her head and shoulders, showing herself. Her breasts are... I don't know, like perfectly ripe fruit, white apples. Tipped with exquisite pink nipples and dusted lightly with freckles. Yes, Scully has freckles. I'll bet she has them on her face, too, covered with foundation. Wonder where else?

I didn't say anything, but I didn't need to say anything. I'm sure she saw it on my face. I couldn't have described what I was feeling, anyhow. I dropped the bra and then I bent and tugged at the waistband of her panties, slid them down her legs. And stayed there, on my knees, my head on her feet. Don't they say, in the Catholic Mass, I am not worthy? That was how I felt. She was my goddess, and I wasn't worthy.

"Mulder." She stroked my hair. I didn't move. She stooped down to me. "Mulder, I don't need this. I don't want it."

"Yes, you do," I mumbled against her adorable insteps. "You deserve it."

Scully didn't say anything for a moment. I took courage to raise my head--and gulped. Right in front of me, luminous blue eyes and a sensual smile, her lips parted. Then I guess she figured if I wouldn't get up, she'd have to come down. Next thing I knew, I was on my back on the carpet, this wild red-haired woman on top of me, writhing against me. I still had on my socks and my underwear, but my cock was more or less between her thighs, finding its way home by instinct. I really didn't want to come in my boxers--it's pretty disgusting, so I rolled her over under me for a quick kiss and then got up, bringing her with me.

Scully was giggling. "What are you laughing at, Scully? I've still got my underwear on." That, of course, made her giggle even harder. I resolved, as I stripped off the damp-fronted boxers, to make Scully giggle at least once a day from now on. I tried to take her in my arms again, but she held me off.

"Let me look at you," she said. I could feel those eyes moving over me, the way you can feel a ray of sunlight as it moves across the chair where you're sitting. They beamed blindingly into my eyes. "Mulder, don't you know how beautiful you are?"

"Not as beautiful as you," I whispered. When the next kiss was over, we were stretched out on the bed, side by side facing each other. Scully reached up and dragged some pillows closer.

"Mulder, why haven't we done this already?"

"Because I was afraid." That was the truth.

A tiny frown. "Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of you. Afraid you'd make me forget. I could forget everything in your arms, Scully. Samantha, the conspiracy, the truth, and my own name. Forget Fox Mulder--I'll be whoever you want me to be."

She smoothed the hair back from my forehead. "I want you to be Fox Mulder. With all his obsessions and bad habits. Even bad eating habits." Her lips moved gently over mine, as if I were a shy animal who might run from a firmer touch. I might have run. But she was here, and she smelled so good, and she was the promise that I'd get what I really wanted. Her, and Skinner. Love, sex, the works.

I reached for her and her leg came over mine, arms around my neck, no light between us. Kissing, and my eyes closed, sight shutting down to prevent sensory overload. Sound of our lips clutching, little whimpers as we took turns biting one another. Feel of skin, soft straight hair, rough curly pubic hair, teeth, tongue. Taste of Scully, only Scully. If you described how someone's mouth really tasted, it would sound disgusting, but she tasted so good. And smell, the smell of her skin, her hair, the smell of her arousal....

For a while it was definitely a duet, not a solo. Exploring one another with lips and fingers and palms and tongues. Arms and legs braided together. Abruptly I noticed I'd stopped feeling paralyzed with unworthiness. Scully had rolled onto her back and was running her fingers happily through my hair and over my skin while I meandered downwards from her collarbone, heading for the twin peaks of her breasts. There are these mountains in Ireland, and if you translate the Gaelic name, it means Anu's Tits.... And of course Anu is really the same as Danu, the great river goddess, mother of the gods, Danu, Dana--

She gasped when I licked one nipple. I stopped and stared, mesmerized by the sight of her pink flesh glistening with my saliva. "What are you waiting for, Mulder?" She sounded a little breathless.

"I think I'm having a religious experience."

She chuckled. "That's very flattering, but I think I'd like to continue the erotic experience I'm having."

"Same difference," and I sucked her nipple back onto my tongue, hard.

Scully quivered and whimpered and seemed to be on the verge of dissolving into liquid, so I stayed there for a while, going back and forth between her breasts as if they were two ice cream cones and I was trying to eat them both before they melted. Her nipples went from pink to rose and her scent went from I-want-it to I've-got-to-have-it, and I rubbed my cock on her thigh and did my damnedest to give it to her, using a little trick, uh, someone taught me. I got hold of both nipples in fingers and mouth, ground my thigh against her clit, and hung on until an incredible shriek and a shudder told me she had climaxed.

I backed off and watched her chest go up and down with deep, rapid breaths. "You're not a woman, you're a banshee," I teased.

"Mulder--"

"My red-haired fairy woman." I went for the patch of red hair over her fairy mound.

I happen to know I'm pretty good at this. At least, I've been told I am. I heard Scully sigh as she spread her thighs, giggle softly as I licked the moisture from them--sweat and nectar and salt and *her*. Yumm. Nothing smells as good as sex. I nuzzled the surprisingly soft hair, teasing her, and noticed something interesting.

"You have a mole."

"I do?"

"Uh-huh. Right *here*." I touched the spot with the tip of my tongue, in the little groove between her mound and her thigh. She jumped. "I matches the one on your upper lip."

"How do you know about that?"

I smiled into her thigh. "I've seen you in the hospital, you know. Foundation makeup wasn't on your chart."

Scully swatted my head, and in retaliation I swiped my tongue over her clit. Her arm fell back, and she groaned satisfyingly. I smiled again. She was very wet, silky with wetness, and that little bump was as hard as my cock. I nuzzled the wet folds apart, nibbling lightly, getting a good look at her. The lips like petals, deep rose like her nipples after I'd sucked them; the modestly prominent clit; the red curls and that adorable mole. I went after it again with my lips and got another swat.

"Mulder, for godsake--"

"What?" I raised my head, looked at her innocently over the slopes of her belly and breasts. Her eyes were crackling like spheres in a mad scientist's lab. "What do you want me to do, Scully?"

Her voice dropped almost into a growl. "Lick my pussy, Mulder."

Good thing for her I didn't come into the bedsheets right then. That'd teach her to talk sexy. God, she was so sexy. How had I kept my hands off this woman for five years? Let alone my lips, my teeth, my tongue, my cock.... I did everything the best I could, licking and sucking and stroking and swirling, eating her and drinking her and communing with her and oh god I think I'm going to--

I buried my face in her and didn't worry about not being able to breathe. When I didn't move after a minute or two, she said my name.

"Rrrhmh."

"Mulder, are you all right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Mulder, did you come?"

I managed to turn my head. "Uh, yeah."

Scully giggled. "Wow."

"Did you?" I licked my lips.

"Several times, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I guess... I hadn't."

Feeling damned foolish, I dragged myself up the bed until my head was close enough to the pillow to let it drop. Thud. Scully propped herself on her elbow and touched my lips with her fingertip.

"A sex crime waiting to happen," she said again, teasingly. I wondered how soon I'd be able to retaliate for that remark. I managed to get my arm around her neck and pull her over for a kiss, slick and salty with her wetness. She certainly didn't seem to mind.

"That's never happened before," I mumbled. She kissed my cheek.

"It's okay, Mulder, really. I'm flattered."

"I messed up your sheets." She stroked my chest, fluffing up the hair.

"You'll help me change 'em later, right?"

"Sure." I yawned. "Sorry." Her hand wandered to my thigh.

Intense blue eyes zoomed in on me, the running lights of the mothership hovering right over my head. "We can't have you falling asleep on the job, Agent Mulder. Now pay attention."

It actually took me a minute to realize what Scully was doing. She was kissing her way down my body, heading steadily for my cock. Which woke up to the possibilities way before my brain did and went on a very speedy 12-step program of recovery.

Soft, warm, knowing lips traced my collarbone, tugged at the hair on my chest. The tip of her nose brushed over one nipple before her lips did; as I had for her, she stayed there for a while, nonverbally informing me that I did *not* know everything there was to know about my own body's responses. My nipples never had so much fun before, not even with--no, that's another story.

Then down over my ribs, back to the middle and following the hairline, stopping to torture my navel with her tongue--damn, now she knows I'm ticklish--before forging on below it and stopping, of course, right at the base of my now happily recovered cock, which was more than ready to indulge in its addiction of choice a second time. Namely, Scully.

She raised her eyes to mine, eyebrows lifted, smiling sweetly. "Feeling better?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Anything else I can do for you?" Sweet, sweet, teasing smile.

"Uh, yeah, well..." I gestured feebly to my cock. Her eyebrows lifted, making me that much harder.

"Cat got your tongue, Mulder?"

"I thought you had it, Scully--" She moaned into my kiss, shivered against my hand between her thighs. "Suck on me, Scully," I whispered into her ear.

I spent an excruciatingly delicious five minutes hovering on the brink of mystical ecstasy, or at least a second orgasm, my entire body held captive by my partner's mouth. With extreme delicacy, she took me in her mouth, explored the head and the shaft with her lips and tongue, tasted my fluid, touched on all the really sensitive spots, including a couple that I think are exclusive to me, not generic. And she never took her eyes off me. The whole time, she watched my face, and the expression on her face was the same total absorption she gets during a case, every sense wide open and precisely tuned to the incoming data. There was no way she was going to let me come in her mouth. That hot, wet, silky, slick, sensitive, delicious, incredibly sexy mouth.

I was panting like a steam engine when she moved that mouth from my cock to my lips. Tasting myself in her mouth made me quiver all over like a horse ready to burst out of the starting gate. Nose to nose with me, she smiled some more. "Ready to fuck me, Mulder?"

I groaned. "Oh God, Dana, quit talking to me like that or I'll go off again before I get it in you."

We were side by side, facing each other. Dana inched closer and threw her leg over my hip. I positioned my cock against her opening with my hand, then cupped her bottom and pulled her gently against me while I pushed. Oh, God.... There aren't even words for the noise I made when my body went into hers, let alone for what I felt. Maybe, "Home," or, "At last," or just, "Yes." Yes. The two of us, one. Just one of us. She ground her hips slowly against me, clutching at me with strong slim arms and very strong inner muscles, and I realized I was crying against her shoulder, crying into her hair.

"Yes, Mulder, yes," she crooned. I was crying and we were moving slowly together, no hurry, no friction, really, just being there. She stroked my hair. "It's all right. Yes. Oh, deeper...." Her back arched. I kissed her breasts, her nipples, dropped tears over them, nearly sobbing. "Yes, please, yes, yes...."

I couldn't take it any more. I rolled Dana onto her back and her legs came around my hips. Staring straight into her eyes, I pulled out and shoved in *hard*, "Yes! God, yes--" She was so little underneath me and still so strong, just like I always knew she would be, and I grabbed her shoulders and started really fucking her, and Dana Katherine Scully threw back her head on the pillow and screamed, I never knew her voice could be that high, I was fucking her totally without mercy and she was coming totally without reservation, and the fire inside her spread to me and burnt me up, taking me into peaceful darkness through ultimate light.

*********

I took Mulder home the next two nights as well. The second night we went straight to bed and fucked for hours, like animals in heat. Mulder was tireless. We finally called for pizza around midnight when we were both starved and nothing else was open. We ate pizza in bed and laughed, laughed like crazy people. The third night I cooked again, and we talked, and he was very sweet again, calling me his Danagoddess and eating me until I was just about worn out from his mouth alone. He slept with me all three nights, slept like the dead.

Walter was watching us, I know, just as Mulder'd been watching me. And when I didn't ask Mulder home, the next night, I knew Walter would make his move.

*********

It was as sudden and instinctive as the night I opened the door between my room and Dana's and saw the look on her face, felt the heat coming off her. I went home from the office, showered, put on comfortable clothes, and before I knew it, I was back in the car, driving to Fox Mulder's place. And there was a bag on the seat beside me with a few things a man needs to get intimate with another man.

<Why the hell am I doing this? It could ruin my career, his career, at least our working relationship. And Mulder's a more dangerous man than he knows--They're probably watching our every move. And he's just spent three nights in *her* arms--how do I know he'll even want to look at a man, let alone have sex with his boss?>

Those thoughts didn't keep me from driving on autopilot, going to him and not turning back. I wasn't going to turn back until I knew, one way or the other, was what between us, or could be.

He blinked at me like an owl when he answered the door. He was actually wearing his glasses, something I hadn't seen him do for a while. He looks even better in those damned glasses than without them; I've seen women practically swoon for a smile when he's got them on. Mine, I just can't see without them. Unless I get very, very close to what I'm looking at.

"Sir?"

"Mulder, may I come in? I need to talk to you."

I moved forward in just the right way to intimidate him. Mulder's hardly any smaller than I am, but he doesn't have macho body language, the movements of the shoulders that say, "Move or I'll beat the shit out of you." Still blinking, he moved out of my way, and I stalked into his dim, cluttered apartment like I owned it.

Once I was on his turf, however, he took the advantage. "Is this about Agent Scully, sir?"

I turned on him so fast he froze. "This isn't about Dana, Mulder. It's about you and me."

I walked up to him with as little threat as possible. The glasses were hiding his eyes, but he was biting that tormenting lower lip, the one everybody who wants him must dream about. Deliberately, I took off my own glasses and put them in my shirt pocket. Then I raised my hand--I saw him start to flinch and suppress it--and ran my knuckles down the side of his face.

Mulder's shoulders quivered, almost, and he tilted his head into my touch. Both movements were so subtle most people would have missed them, but not me. Not a trained agent who was also a former Marine. My life has depended on noticing subtler things. At the moment, I felt my life depended on catching his reaction to my touch.

"It's about you and me," I repeated, quietly. My fingers slid down under his chin, and I moved in very slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away, to signal that he didn't want what was coming. Mulder stood absolutely still as I fitted my lips over his.

*****

I felt like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. What is it about these people--is it the light they give off that draws me, makes me crawl out of the darkness of my self? Scully's fiery blue stare, the way the light glints off of Skinner--

"It's about you and me," he said, his voice quieter than I'd ever heard it. His fingers were on my cheek, warm fingers, heavier than mine, and then they slid down under my chin. He was moving closer, no hurry, letting me know what was coming, and I couldn't move or even breathe as Walter Skinner kissed me.

<Oh Christ don't be so gentle. Don't give me an out. Don't let me get away--> It was over almost before I could think about it, but he didn't move away. His face was inches from mine, hell, centimeters from mine, and he was waiting, his lips just barely parted. Waiting for me to make the next move.

*****

Soft, so soft. His mouth is softer than Scully's. Can you believe it? But it didn't surprise me. I brushed my lips across his, didn't use my tongue, just kissed him lightly and then pulled back and waited. Waited for him to make the next move.

Thank God, he did. This time he moved first and kissed me, a desperate kiss with a little sob in it. That kiss said he wanted me, needed me, needed me to take him. I took his face between both hands and deepened the kiss until we were both gasping like marathon runners. I pulled away then, a little roughly, heard him whimper, and carefully reached up and took off his glasses. His eyes had turned an amazing shade of moss green.

Mulder licked his lips. "Walter...." Husky whisper.

"Yes?"

"*Yes*."

*****

I was dizzy, I was drowning, it was worse than with Scully, it was better, oh, it had been so long.... He put my glasses down on the closest flat surface and then took me, took hold of me. His mouth on mine again, arms going around me, hands between my shoulderblades and on my ass pressing me to his chest and his crotch. Everything but my cock went limp as he filled my mouth with his tongue. I couldn't even hold onto him, but that was okay, he was holding me up, no problem.

When he let go, I tried to think of something smartass to say, some typical Mulderism that would defuse the situation, hide the fact that I wanted to roll over at his feet and beg for it. I couldn't. He was looking at me, looking me right in the eye, there was no way he couldn't know how I felt, what I wanted. I'd have let him do anything. I mean it. Anything. Did Scully feel this way? Is this how it started? Anything, Walter.

"Talk to me, Mulder."

Shit. Anything but that.

*********

I hated to let go of him, but I wasn't going to drag him off to the bedroom, seduce him, fuck him, and have him hate me the next morning for showing him a good time. I wonder if women have the same hatred that men can have for their erotic feelings toward their own sex. I get the feeling maybe they just take it all for granted, and hate their mothers instead.

"Talk to me, Mulder," I said. He got an almost offended look on his face that rapidly turned sulky. I never know if I want to slug him or kiss him when he gets that look. I tried to ignore both impulses. "Look, obviously we both want something here, but I'm not going ahead until we get a few things clear." The pout receded slightly.

"Yes, I've had male lovers before, if that's what you want to know."

I nodded. "That's part of it." I touched the still-pouting lower lip with one finger. "But that's not all. I just want to make sure you really want this."

He actually took my hand and placed it on his crotch, grinning the most seductive grin I've ever seen in my life. He must have been a courtesan in a former life. "Now are you sure?"

Somehow, I refrained from tampering with the evidence. "The body and the mind can say two different things, Mulder." I took half a step backward, to put some distance between us. "Scully told you about her and me." He nodded, wary. "And that I wanted you, too?" He nodded again, his eyes sliding away. I reached for his chin again. "It's not a package deal, Mulder. I don't want you just so I can have her. You don't have to take me to get Scully. If anything happens here tonight, it's just the two of us."

*****

Damn him. Why does he have to talk so much? Scully knows me better than that. He was going to drag all my insecurities out and dust them for fingerprints. He was going to keep going until I blurted out how fucking scared I was because of what happened with me and Alex--

"Look, Walter," I said, "do we have to talk about this? Can't we just fuck? Can't that be enough?"

He stared at me coldly for a moment. "Is that what it is to you, Mulder? Just a fuck?" He was using the office voice. It made me flinch. "Is that what it was with Scully?"

"No!" I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. I turned and walked away from him, toward the kitchen, stopped. I turned back. "Do you really think I could do that, with her? Like she doesn't mean anything to me?"

"No." Very quietly. "I just want to know if that's how it would be with me."

I made myself come back and stand near him. Frighteningly gorgeous in my messy little space. Too big and too bright for it. I looked at his throat framed by the collar of the dark green polo shirt and answered hoarsely, "I--I don't think so. I mean--no. It wouldn't. And that's why I'm scared, Walter. You should know that."

*****

I hadn't figured Mulder would be this scared. Scared of a relationship, sure, I'd figured on that. But somebody, another man, specifically, had hurt him badly, probably not too long ago. On top of all the other times life has whipped him. I'd never wanted anybody who was this scared and yet needed me this badly. He needed me so much, and I wouldn't be enough; he needed Scully, too. And she needed me, in ways I didn't even understand yet. What did I need?

I needed to make love to him. Right now, I needed to possess Fox Mulder. Simple as that. We needed one another.

I reached out and took his hand, which was cold. "So where's the bedroom?"

"I, uh, don't have one."

What? "What do you mean?"

"I store stuff in the bedroom. I just sleep on the couch."

I looked over at the none-too-large leather couch. "Do you *have* a bed, Mulder?"

He grinned shyly. "Um, no."

So we were driving somewhere, I don't know where, someplace out on 95, some motel. It had gotten dark. Mulder stared out the window, away from me. He'd turned on the radio and found some rock station and was humming along with it kind of tunelessly. As often as I could, I looked over at him, his ear, his hair blowing around it, his neck. Beautiful. He'd put on a beat-up leather jacket and stuck his cellphone in the pocket.

*****

I couldn't tell him what I was thinking about. Not about Alex. Why was I thinking about that bastard when I was with another man who wanted me? Just for that reason, of course. Because I'd stayed away from men after Krycek. Better to think of him as Krycek, forget I ever called him Alex. Better still to think of him as just one more bruise that won't heal, just one more inevitable follow-up to losing my sister. One more wound that keeps opening up and bleeding any time I get close to loving someone.

He'd lent me this jacket, one time when we went out for a beer. First time I ever went to a gay bar with another guy. It was cold, and I'd forgotten to put anything on. It wasn't just the cold made my arms prickle up. He'd been wearing long sleeves, and I hadn't, and he'd put the jacket around me, half-smiling, while we were walking across the parking lot to the bar, and never asked for it back. It hung in my closet for a long time before I had the nerve to put it on again. I can't wear it without thinking of him, and I don't want to think of him, ever. But I often think of him, and I'd put it on tonight.

We were out on 95 somewhere, heading north, Baltimore, Pennsylvania, maybe looking for some place where we could get a room. I didn't know, exactly, or care. All I cared about was controlling the shakes that threatened to take over. He scared me worse than Scully did, and she scares me bad enough. Why do I have to be so fucking scared of what I want most? Because then I might not get it, and then I could just go on being Mulder the Martyr, Mulder Quixote on his quest--

It's really scary when you ask yourself a question and get the answer you know is the truth. A lot scarier than vampires, werewolves, parasites, mutants, you name it, it's bit me. If I had Scully and Skinner for lovers, would I be able to go on suffering? And if I wasn't suffering, would I still be me?

*****

I found myself wondering if They knew about this, if They could track us to this faceless clean chain motel on an interstate highway and videotape whatever They wanted. Probably. Probably all They do, for kicks. But I didn't care. It was getting late and having him near me, just near me, was driving me crazy. Seeing him a couple feet away. Smelling his fear and his desire. Hearing his breathing, watching his face that was turned away. Wanting him.

By the time we got up to the hotel room, I couldn't take it any longer. Fuck this shit. He wanted me to take him, I was going to. I locked the door and swung on him so fast he backed away. Got my hands on his face, in his hair, got his mouth under mine. Sucked that irresistible lip into my mouth and bit it, hard. He moaned, whimpered, started shaking; he pushed feebly at my shoulders, but I wasn't letting him go. I grabbed his ass with one hand, hauled him against me, ground my hips against his. Both of us were good and hard before I let go of his mouth.

"Yes or no, Mulder. Now."

He opened his eyes like someone waking up from a coma. They were dazzling green, green fire. I saw something flicker in them, too fast to be ID'd, and then he licked his lips.

"Yes."

I wasn't going to give him time to think. I wasn't going to ask any more questions until he was writhing under my touch. I wasn't going to hold back any longer. I yanked the leather jacket down his arms to his elbows and then pushed him backward so that he fell onto the bed, his arms trapped in the sleeves. His legs hung off the bed, and I knelt between them and went for his fly, fast, silent. He was looking at me as if he were some scared medieval virgin and I was the lord of the manor come to take my droit du seigneur. Not a totally inappropriate analogy, I guess. I peeled down the jeans, leaving them around his ankles, and then the boxers, and wrapped my hand around his cock.

*****

<Yes yes yes yes yes....> My mind was screaming yes, my fear was screaming no, and my cock was throbbing in his hand, in the heat of it, the pressure. He held me knowingly and I bucked against him, partly trying to get out of his grasp, partly trying to bring myself off in his hand. Arms trapped in Alex's jacket, legs trapped in my jeans, trapped by Walter Skinner, who was looking at me with that hard, hard look, dark eyes like stone cliffs over a desolate ocean, oh yes how poetic and you're still shoving your cock into his hand--

"Come, Mulder. Come now."

All he had to do was say that and it was over. I gritted my teeth and swallowed the moans, but I couldn't stop the come from gushing out of me, spurting wildly all over his hand, over my shirt. I was still panting and shaking in the aftermath when he began taking the rest of my clothes off, but slowly, gently. The gentleness was scarier than the force.

"Walter, I'm scared."

"I know." There went the jeans and the boxers.

"You don't know how badly I've been hurt."

"Yes, I do. Not how or who did it, but I know it was bad." Easing the jacket from underneath me.

"But I still want you, and that's what frightens me."

"I understand." I lifted my head and my arms so he could pull my shirt over my head. I was crying again, dammit, as the neckhole popped over my forehead.

"Walter, please--"

"Fox."

At the sound of my name, my first name, I went still, like a dog hearing its master's voice. Very few people can call me "Fox." I let my head drop to the mattress and my eyes go closed.

"I'll take care of it, okay? Just let me take care of it."

*****

He was more frightened of me than any lover I'd ever been with. I've never had sex with a virgin, male or female, but I do frighten people with my size, the way I carry myself. Sometimes I take advantage of that fact, but mostly I try not to. He was frightened of me and of whatever hurt he was carrying, and I wanted to make the hurt and the fear go away.

I undressed him the rest of the way as gently as I knew how. When he was naked, he got up, quickly, and went into the bathroom. I didn't try to stop him. I took my own clothes off, keeping one ear cocked to the closed bathroom door. After a couple minutes, I heard the toilet flush, water running, and he came out. His eyes widened when he saw me naked, and I was surprised when his face broke into a wide grin.

"You're even better looking than I thought, Walt."

He came right up to me and I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck. "Don't call me 'Walt'," I said against his mouth. I was grinning, too, as I kissed him.

He was hungry now, less scared; his hands were all over my back, and he felt so good in my arms, long and lean and elegant. Since he was holding on to me, I let myself play with his hair, soft and clean and good-smelling. Mulder can be totally indifferent to his environment, but he's as fastidious as a cat about his person. All of him smelled good, sweet and sharp at the same time.

He broke away from me after a couple of minutes and dropped lazily onto the bed, inviting me to join him with those smoky green eyes. I deliberately stretched out on top of him, got my leg between his, and held his face still with my hands.

"You're too gorgeous, Mulder," I whispered against his ear, then licked it. "It's a wonder you don't get jumped in the hallways of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, looking the way you do."

He made some weird sound that might have been a chuckle crossed with a moan. "Yeah, with my luck it'd be J. Edgar coming out of a filing cabinet wearing pink lame."

I started laughing so hard I couldn't do anything else. The man is so warped. How had his mood changed so quickly? Ten minutes ago, he was crying while I undressed him, and now, he was lying comfortably underneath me while I laughed like an idiot at something he'd said.

Finally, I kissed his throat, just because my lips happened to be resting there. He seemed to like it, so I went on kissing him, licking the fine stubble under his jaw. He turned his head sharply and I bit the other side of his throat, not too hard, but he gasped. "Oh, you like being bitten," I observed. I slithered down a few inches and nipped his collarbone. He wriggled. "*Do* you like being bitten, Mulder?"

*****

"Yeah, I do," I admitted. Walter's hands had wandered down to the small of my back and were kneading at the tension there. He bit the other side of my collarbone.

"And do you bite?"

"Sometimes...."

He raised up off of me and looked at me questioningly. "What else should I know about you before I proceed?"

I smirked. "Trial and error will work just fine." I squawked when he pressed my nipple between his lips.

"No, I want to know what I'm getting into. So to speak."

*********

Walter bent his head again and starting licking my nipple in a leisurely sort of way. When I was squirming pretty thoroughly, he stopped and looked up at me again.

"So what would you like to do, Agent Mulder? Would you like me to suck your cock? Would you like to suck mine?" He swiped the other nipple and gave it a quick suck. I squirmed some more.

"Jesus, Walter, just do whatever you like! Just take me, okay? If you do something I don't like, I'll let you know."

He chuckled and nuzzled my chest hair, around my nipples without touching them. "You're a pushy bottom, aren't you, Fox? Tear your lover's clothes off and then demand that they fuck you."

"That's exactly what Alex--" Oh, shit. Just the fact that I froze on the word must have told him who I meant. Not just any old Alex. Walter's fingers pressed into the base of my spine.

"Christ, Mulder, did you think I didn't know?" He kissed me before I could say anything. "I knew there was something between the two of you. I might even have guessed he was the reason you're so skittish... one of the reasons." He just sort of relaxed on top of me, holding me, while I fought the tears. "It's okay, Fox. It's okay."

After a minute I said, "Anyway, you were the one who took my clothes off."

Walter snorted and bit my shoulder hard enough to make me jump. "You wanted it, Mulder. You need it. Isn't that what you're telling me? 'Just take me,' I think that's what you said?"

*****

I kissed him hard this time, using my teeth on his lips. He wound his arms and legs around me, purring into my mouth, and I knew I was doing the right thing. I got my hand on his cock again, not too tight, and dragged my lips down his body, over that sleek taut skin, through the soft dark hair, licking and biting and tasting. I wanted to bite right through his skin and crunch him up like an apple, sure that he'd taste as sweet as he smelled.

When I got to his cock, I didn't wait to ask any questions. He was fully hard and I sucked him in, all the way, tasting sweat and skin and semen and Mulder. He made this wonderful sinuous movement with his hips that somehow didn't ram his dick down my throat and gag me, and he moaned, a low throaty sound that seemed to taste as good as he did. I sucked on him ravenously but tried not to give him too much. I didn't know for sure if I wanted to make him come this way. No, actually, I was sure I wanted him to fuck me, once I'd fucked him first.

Just a light touch on the cleft of his ass, and he spread his legs for me. Oh, he wanted it, no question. I got up and left him alone long enough to get the bag I'd carried, dig out the lube and the condoms. When I settled back on the bed, he was stroking himself almost absent-mindedly. I swatted his hand away. "That's mine, Mulder. *You're* mine."

"Yes, sir."

He really got noisy when I touched his asshole. Without my asking, he turned over onto his stomach and spread his legs, raising his hips a little. His face was totally slack with pleasure, as if drugged. I took one of the pillows he wasn't using and put it under his hips. He rubbed himself against it, smiling with closed eyes, and waggled his ass invitingly. I hoped I could get him ready and get inside him before I exploded.

*****

Oh god, it had been so long. I am such a slut for this, god knows why. If a woman could fuck me in the ass, I think I'd never look at a man, but most of them aren't interested in trying.

Just his finger inside me felt so good I quit worrying about how I was going to take someone that big. I moved my hips with his touch, and he knew *exactly* what he was doing, exactly how to make me want it, make me ready for it. It was like he already knew *me* specifically, my body, my responses.

Everything in me drained away, dissolving and evaporating, except for the knot of focus that was my cock, my ass, my core. I heard myself whimper when Walter took his hand away, then grunt when he gave me two fingers. I was raising my ass to his hand, thrusting against him, begging or demanding or both.

"Easy, Mulder. I don't want to do it before you're ready."

I groaned. "Jesus, Walter, I'm ready, please, God--"

Three fingers hurt, just enough to make a difference. That didn't mean it didn't feel great. His cock isn't the only thing that's big; his fingers are big, too, but so gentle when he wants to be. Somehow he found the edge I needed to balance on, between being gentle enough not to hurt, and forceful enough not to let me get away. His fingers rubbed over my prostate, and I was completely, utterly at his mercy.

*****

I don't know how I kept myself from ramming it into him. He was moving his ass in these gorgeous little circles, moaning softly, he wanted to be fucked like Scully had wanted to be fucked. These two were going to exhaust me, and I was really looking forward to it. He wanted me inside him, I wanted to be inside him, I wanted him inside me, I couldn't wait much longer.

When I took my hand out of him, he got up on elbows and knees. I couldn't take my eyes off him, the arch of his back and the back of his neck and the sweet spread cleft of his buttocks, as I slicked on the condom, my wet fingers sliding on the lubricated sheath. I wiped my hands carelessly on the bedsheets and put one hand on his ass. "Now, Mulder."

I guided myself in with one hand. He was tight, but not as tight as I'd expected. I still went slowly and carefully, hearing him whimper each time I inched forward a little further. Then he overrode my careful consideration with another sensuous motion that sucked me all the way in. *All* the way. Dear Jesus.

"Christ!" I gritted my teeth and tried not to move, but I was shaking helplessly, buried in that gorgeous, willing body. Mulder turned and looked at me over his shoulder, face flushed and so beautiful, and said pretty much what Scully had said.

"Fuck, Walter, don't hold back."

That did it. To be perfectly frank, I fucked the hell out of him. I pulled nearly all the way out and pushed back in without any restraint, and he arched his back like a cat, "Oh, *yeah*," so I did it again. And again, and again, and again. Mulder dropped his head onto his arms, raising his ass and thrusting backward, and I bent over him, kissed that beautiful exposed neck, tasted his sweat, and bit down. He writhed underneath me and I was close, very very very close. I was too out of it to say anything like actual words, to tell him how good it was in anything but gasps, but I did hear words from Mulder, words like "fuck" and "yes" and "please" and "god", and then a whole sentence, "Touch my cock, please, touch me."

"No," I managed. "I want--I want--oh, **god**!"

No more holding back. Everything rushed out of me, everything I've ever felt in my entire lifetime, flooding out of me into Mulder, darkness rushing in and taking me down like the Titanic. I came so hard I blacked out for a moment, sprawled on top of him and feeling nothing at all.

*****

I'm pretty articulate most of the time--okay, I run my mouth constantly, speculate, quip, tease, blow smoke, suffer from major logorrhea. But for the really important things, I have no words. For Scully's complete acceptance of me and what it felt like to be in her body, fucking her, knowing that at the same time, I was finding a place in her heart. For Skinner's complete possession of me and what it felt like to know passion in which there was roughness but no violence, no wish to humiliate and degrade, just to go to the extreme and laugh at it, together.

I knew I'd be damned sore later, but I didn't care. It was so good, unbearably good, so extreme it was beyond pleasure and pain, it was ecstasy. I came very, very close to coming just from being fucked, which isn't usual and I've never come so close to it before. When he collapsed on top of me, I was tempted to move just a little bit--trapped between his weight and the covers, the friction would do the trick--but it occurred to me that maybe, he wanted something from me, too. And maybe, just maybe, I could give it to him.

I tried to get up on my hands and knees again. Walter made a little noise and slowly pulled out of me, away from me. He rolled over and landed on his back with a thud, one arm falling off the bed. I grinned because *he* was grinning, a goofy, shit-eating grin of total satisfaction.

I stretched out beside him, tucking my shoulder into his armpit, and nudged him with my cock, just enough to make an impression. "I know, Fox," he mumbled. "Just give me a minute. I'm ten years older than you are." His voice trailed off. After a moment he licked his lips. "Thirsty...."

I slid out of bed and got a glass of water from the bathroom. He twitched when I put it on his chest and then drank half of it. I drank the rest and put the empty glass on the nightstand, then settled down next to him again. This time he was able to wrap one arm around me.

"Mulder," he said presently. His voice was even deeper than usual. "I want you to fuck me." I raised my head, and he was looking at me. Dark steady flame behind the eyes. I looked away. "You've never done that, have you?"

I cleared my throat. "Actually, no." I sat up and then rolled over on my stomach, head on my arms on the other pillow. With that little bit of distance between us, I could talk to him about Alex.

"Alex Krycek was my first. The first man I had sex with. I mean, I fooled around with other guys in the locker room and behind the bleachers, when I was in high school--who doesn't? And with girls, too. But not as much as you might think."

"Because of--Samantha?"

I nodded. "I went to Oxford and that's where I met--Phoebe." I turned my face away and then back again. "Let's just say that an older woman teaching a younger man the ropes isn't always necessarily a good idea. Not if she wants to keep the rope around his neck.... After I got into the Bureau, I pretty much ignored being interested in women or in men. No time for that on the fast track. No time for that once I found the X-Files. Then I met Scully." We grinned at each other and sighed. "I've been waiting for five years for her to crook her finger and say, 'Come here, Mulder.' Any time--that's all it would have taken. She's--she's a goddess."

"I know what you mean," said Walter gravely.

I sat up, cross-legged. "Then Scully was gone and Krycek was there. Christ, I missed her. I missed her so much I let him seduce me." I half-smiled, shaking my head. "You must have noticed that I'm pretty easy--"

"No, I wouldn't say that," he interrupted, rather loudly. I plunged on.

"Alex could have won the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell Award'--for a lot of things." Walter snorted. "In public, he was even more of a geek than I am, when we first met. But in private, Alex was very sure of himself and very much... the top. Or whatever you want to call it. I was a virgin, with men, and he showed me... everything. I never fucked him. I'm not sure he'd ever have let me. He fucked me and I found out how much I liked being fucked. And thanks to him, I also found out how easy it is to hate someone's guts and want his cock up your ass at the same time."

*****

The loathing in his voice was painful to hear. I reached out and found his hand, squeezed it until I made him look at me. "I don't blame you for still being stuck in that. Just when you think it's safe to walk across the parking lot--Krycek shows up again."

"Yeah, and he keeps telling me he wants to help me while holding a gun to my head."

I rubbed my thumb into his palm. "But I want you to understand something. I have no interest in being your top. I'm interested in being your lover. And Dana's. Top, bottom, it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. I couldn't stand feeling like every sexual act was a major theatrical production."

That made him lose it. He laughed so hard he fell over onto me, crowing like a rooster. It's harder to make somebody laugh, usually, than to make them come. I felt proud of myself.

When Mulder subsided, I gathered him into my arms. He'd lost his erection a little, but it came back with a wet, rough kiss that went on and on and ended up with him lying on top of me. "I really do want you to fuck me, Mulder," I said.

"I really do want to," he answered. "You'll just have to guide me."

I thought for a moment about what I wanted. It wasn't likely I was going to come again, although it wasn't impossible. The emotional rollercoaster he'd put me on had worn me out as much as the sex, if not more so. So I was willing to go with whatever would make him happy and comfortable. "Why don't I just stay right here, on my back? That way you can see my face and you'll know you're doing okay."

Mulder looked a little startled, but he nodded. With his help I got some pillows under my hips, two or three of those scrawny hotel pillows. Then I pulled him down on top of me, feeding on his mouth and letting him feel what it was like to be in the dominant position, to cover me. I surprised myself by starting to get hard again.

When he moved back onto his knees, I grabbed the lube from the nightstand and handed it to him. "Just do what I did--I'll let you know if you do anything I don't like." I tried to sound matter-of-fact, to put him at ease, but damned if I wasn't getting hard again, slowly but surely.

Fox gooped up one slim finger thoroughly--obsessively thoroughly--and then propped himself on one elbow between my thighs. His first touches were tentative, but nice. I spread my legs a little further and lifted my hips encouragingly. "It's been a while for me, but I don't think you're gonna hurt me, Mulder. You wanted to be fucked: so do I."

That did the trick. I relaxed with deep breaths as he started working that finger into me. I didn't want to tell him how long it had been since I'd gotten fucked--I didn't want to make him any more nervous than he already was. And I truly doubted that he would hurt me; he was being too careful.

"That's good, Fox. Go deeper--oh, yeah. Feel me loosening up around you?"

"Yesss...," a long soft hiss. His face had that look of focus it gets; he was past being distracted by anything now.

I moved with his probing, making tight circles with my hips. His finger dragged across my prostate and I gasped sharply. "No, that's it, do it again!" He did, realizing now what he'd touched. I nodded emphatically when he withdrew, squeezed more lube onto his fingers, and went in with two.

He was more confident now, and I quit worrying about guiding him; it felt damned good, and I could just let go and feel certain he'd know it was pleasure that was making me groan. He went on and on, stroking carefully in and out of me, making room for himself, until I had to beg him to give me more. He seemed almost surprised that my ass would take three fingers; I decided not to mention that he'd taken my three fingers and my cock, all of which are bigger than his, without any difficulty.

"Please," I said finally, "I'm ready, you're ready. Do it, Fox!"

His eyes were hooded with that brooding look he gets. He held out his dry hand, and I slapped a condom into it, biting my lip to keep from begging him to hurry up. He really has a beautiful cock; he's beautiful all over, so slim and elegant he makes me feel graceless sometimes, especially draped in that long coat. He slid the condom down on himself with precise, slow movements, like someone disarming a bomb. When he moved closer, I raised my hips and threw one leg over his shoulder.

"Now, Mulder."

*****

I really couldn't believe what was about to happen. Part of my mind would not accept that I was going to fuck Walter Skinner, my arrogant, domineering boss and one of the toughest men I've ever met, and he was not only going to let me fuck him, it had been his idea in the first place. My body, however, was only too happy to take this opportunity, and I found myself sinking into him much faster than I'd meant to and much more easily than I'd thought I would.

Dear Jesus, he was so *tight*. God forgive me, but it made Scully seem loose as a whore. Maybe this is why men get off on this--an opening so tight and so deep, combined with the kick of doing something kinky or unnatural or whatever you want to call it. He groaned so deep and so loud, I swear I felt the vibrations in my cock. <He *likes* this. He *wants* it. Just like you did. Just like Scully....>

Some kind of tension in me eased, and as it did, I pulled back and pushed in again. He groaned again, tight, tight, hot, how was I going to last more than a heartbeat, more than one good deep breath? Walter took a deep breath and *tightened* all around me, Christ, I didn't think it could get any tighter, and his voice was nothing but a growl. "Give me *more*...."

More, more, it was more than anything, it was like nothing else. I wanted it to last, and I pulled back and thrust, pulled back and thrust, as slowly and carefully as I had opened him with my fingers. He writhed underneath me, please, please, moved his other leg and I helped him get that one over my shoulder, too, and I shifted and shoved in deeper, was there no end, no bottom to this bottom? I tried not to giggle and then Walter pulled me down, caught my lower lip between his teeth, he was growling without any words and I felt his cock hard again on my stomach.

I straightened up, leaning on one arm so I could take hold of his cock. "More?" I teased, wrapping my hand around him. "More?" thruster harder, deeper. "More than this?" my hand and my cock matching in rhythm.

"More," he grunted, his head jerking from side to side. "Everything."

And then I couldn't hold back. He'd said "Everything," and I wanted to give everything, take everything, be as good as he'd been for me. That strong, big, disciplined body helpless under mine for a few minutes. This hard, controlled, disciplined man wanting something *I* could give him. I pounded into him hard, both of us grunting, two straining animals sweating at their work, and then he surprised me with another orgasm, bursting hot and sweet all over my hand. His coming tightened his asshole around my cock, and I exploded inside of him with no sense of inevitability, as surprised by my own searing, sweeping pleasure as I had been by his. Afterwards, darkness for both of us.

*********

As soon as I saw Mulder, I knew it had happened, just as he had known after I'd been with Walter. I got to work before him, which doesn't happen as often as you might think, and was polishing up my latest field report. He came in, whistling, and stopped cold when I turned my head. He practically had a sign on his forehead saying, "I've had great sex!" Wow. He didn't move until I grinned at him, and then he grinned back and softly closed the door.

"He's good, isn't he?" was all I said.

"Yeah." The grin got wider, and then he started whistling again. That was all we said about it--then.

I took Mulder home that night and cooked a decent meal for the man, determined to wangle out of him every last detail about his time with Walter. After all, this was a side of both men I hadn't seen before, though I hoped I'd be seeing it up close very soon. He took a lot of persuading, but eventually he gave, and gave and gave, and I gave back, and we had a wonderful time. The next night I tried the same tactics on Walter, with great success.

I think the two of them spent another couple of nights together, while I was recovering from being jackhammered into nirvana. I really think I walked funny for about half a day; I'd had more sex in the past week than I'd had in the past five years. Mulder comes more often, but Walter lasts longer, and he makes every erection count. I guess all three of us were sex-starved--no, not just that: starved for intimacy. I craved snuggling against Walter's chest or holding Mulder's hand or stroking his hair as if he were a cat, as much as I craved the mind-blowing orgasms they gave me and I gave them.

About two weeks had gone by, and we weren't making love every night any more, when we all went out to dinner together. That was dangerous, in more ways than one, so we drove out to someplace in western Maryland where we'd be totally unknown. The drive took hours, but it was worth it; that dinner was the most sheer fun I'd had in ages: being with two handsome men, flirting with both of them, watching them flirt with one another (well, Mulder flirted with Walter), and enjoying good food. I even had a big fat sloppy sundae, chocolate and nuts and whipped cream and a cherry, and drove Mulder and Skinner crazy licking the spoon in creative ways. I loved it. I felt like the goddess Mulder called me.

That, of course, was the night it happened.

I'd driven out to dinner with Mulder. If there'd been a hotel nearby, we probably would have all three gone to bed together that night, but there wasn't, and I suppose we'd tacitly agreed it was too dangerous, still, to go and look for one. Walter asked me to drive home with him, and I did, after questioning Mulder pretty thoroughly to make sure he didn't mind. He really didn't--he was as relaxed as I'd seen him in ages. Walter and I compared notes on Mulder on the way home and even made out in the car like idiot teenagers before separating for the night.

He never showed up for work the next day.

By the time I would normally have gone home, we had a full-scale manhunt going. I was beating myself up something fierce for letting Mulder drive alone, wondering if They had gotten him, and I knew Walter was doing the same thing. I don't remember much about that time except the anxiety that wouldn't go away. It stayed in my mind like a low-level hum, the hum of fluorescent lights or a noisy refrigerator, something to measure my concentration against as I carried on, doing my useless part in the search for Mulder.

I don't know who was angrier, Skinner or me, when we found that Krycek had him. They'd been seen together. The car they found was rented in one of his aliases. Walter ground his teeth so hard he was going to need dental work because of it. I thought it seemed like a good idea, so I joined him. Later on I'd share with Walter my fantasies of taking the rat-bastard's other arm off with my bare hands.

It was night and the team went in and they got Mulder out and Krycek got away, of course. He should have been named "Houdini." Mulder wasn't injured, just shocky, so nobody questioned my offer to take him home and take charge of him. That's what you do for your partner, especially if both partners are single people with nobody else to turn to. I did take him home and left him sacked out on my couch while I packed some things. Then I got Mulder up and into the car and drove out 83 to the restaurant Walter had picked for our rendezvous point. He'd gone to Mulder's place and packed what he would need, after putting in the requisite paperwork back at the office to get us all some vacation time. We stuffed some food into a recalcitrant Mulder, ate like starving wolves ourselves, and then started the drive north.

*****

As soon as I found out it was Krycek, I called an old buddy of mine. He had this cabin up in Connecticut, nice place, comfortable, very remote. No problem letting me have it, for as much as a week. No charge between a couple of ex-Marines. We were going to take Mulder there and give him all the attention it took to get him back on his feet emotionally. Not to mention that Scully and I needed some emotional healing as well.

At first he rode with me. He stared out the window like he had the first night we had sex, only this time, he wasn't trying to hide anything. He simply wasn't there. The short nap at Scully's and the hot meal hadn't done much to help him. Every once in a while I put my hand on his arm or his thigh, just to reassure myself that this silent, slumped figure strapped in beside me was really there. He didn't flinch when I touched him; he didn't respond at all.

It was getting on for noon the following day when we stopped to eat again. Scully gave me one of her querying looks, and I shook my head. "Not good." He followed us through the cafeteria line, shuffling his feet, and didn't eat half of what Scully piled on his plate. He wouldn't meet our eyes, wouldn't answer anything we said. Christ, I was imagining the worst. Had the one-armed bastard raped him? Or, worse, had Krycek seduced him, gotten past his guard?

*****

After lunch I got Mulder to ride with me. I was following Walter; our destination was a remote cabin belonging to an old friend of his. Mulder was uncharacteristically silent; that is to say, he never said a word, and I would have sworn before God that Mulder couldn't keep his mouth shut for five minutes, let alone several hours. He just slumped in the passenger seat beside me, not talking, not moving, not fiddling with the radio, not really there. I had to touch him, now and again, to be sure he wasn't a ghost. I never felt quite sure enough.

The cabin was out in the woods, remote enough to be undisturbed, but still connected to electricity and plumbing. At least an acre of private property surrounded it, with only one access road that was hard to find unless you knew where to look. I followed Walter's car up hairpin twists and turns, between banks of live rock overgrown with ivies, over a bridge that crossed a small stream, and finally around one last turn to see the cabin emerge from the forest with the suddenness of a deer bounding into the road.

Walter came over to my car, opened the door, and hauled Mulder out like a sack of grain. Mulder could barely make his feet move; after a few struggling steps, Walter just picked him up, slung him over his shoulder like a sleepy child. God, what could we do for him? I grabbed all the bags to drag them in while Walter hurried toward the door. "I'm gonna get him in the shower," he said over his shoulder. I just nodded, not having enough breath to spare for words.

I could hear the shower running while I unpacked, and then the sound of crying. I'd never heard Mulder cry like that, and I wanted to go to him, to them, but something told me I should let them handle it, for now--let it be between the guys. Whatever it was, maybe he would tell me about it later. I hoped. Trying to shut my ears to it, I prowled around the cabin, checking out the closets and cabinets, putting my things away. I found a lot of food in the kitchen and, of all things, a crockpot, so I threw together a mess of stuff that might count as a stew and got it simmering.

By the time I'd done that, I came back in the main room to find Walter building a fire in the large fireplace. His hair was damp and he was wearing a big flannel robe. He looked a little pale, and the lines of strain in his face were deeper than they'd been lately. I stooped down beside him. "He's in bed," he said quietly. "I think he'll sleep now."

"Good." I put my hand on his arm, stroked down to his elbow and up to his shoulder. His arm was tight and hard, and I still had on my suit and my pumps; I hadn't changed clothes although I'd gone home. We were both so tired.... I could see in his face that he wanted to tell me what had happened, but that it wouldn't be right. The fire glowed over both of us.

"I took a shower," he said after a bit. "Why don't you do the same?"

I shook my head and stood up. "Later. Right now I just... need you to hold me."

There were two leather armchairs and a matching couch before the fire, the couch covered with a colorful afghan that someone's grandmother might have crocheted. Walter picked me up and settled down with me in one of the armchairs, pulling the lever so it was in recliner position. Sighing, I leaned against his chest and let him pull off the cream-colored pumps, now smudged and scraped with more than a day's nonstop wear. My feet practically disappeared into his large hands, and the massage felt so good I didn't know whether to purr like a happy cat or scream and wail out all my tension.

After a while he just held me. I sat there on his lap, wrapped in his arms, my legs stretched out atop his on the footrest of the chair, and let myself relax. Just let myself feel how small I was in comparison to him. Let myself feel how much I needed this moment, the warmth and safety of his embrace. I hadn't felt like this since I was a small child, when my father used to hold me and read to me. I hadn't let myself lean on anyone like this since I was small. His breathing was deep and slow, and I think he needed to hold me as much as I needed to be held. It felt okay to need this.

Walter was kissing my hair and massaging the side of my neck. When I tilted my head the other way, I felt his lips instead of his hand. Softly. No pressure. Moist warmth of his breath, brushing across my cheek and then my ear. I felt my breathing change, my nipples start to harden. He didn't have to do anything; he only had to be near me to make me want him. My only defense against that was that I knew he felt the same way around me.

I arched my back, and the arm that had been around my back shifted. One of the hands that had massaged my feet so wonderfully cupped my breast. I made a tiny murmur, and he started to knead my breast, gently, almost tentatively, as if he thought I might reject him. I arched more, into the touch; my breasts were already almost painfully swollen, feeling like they might burst if they weren't somehow soothed. I could feel his cock harden, fast, against my hip, and I wanted anything that could happen, anything at all.

*****

I started unbuttoning her blouse. She was completely passive in my arms, so tired, maybe more tired than I was, tired by waiting. She sat still, warm and relaxed, and let me do whatever I wanted. I unbuttoned the tiny rough-textured buttons, down to her waistband, and spread the blouse open. Her bra unhooked in the front; one quick twist, and it was out of my way. A little whimper through pursed lips as I stroked her naked skin, beautiful creamy skin sprinkled with small freckles, skin I would never get enough of touching and tasting. I used my teeth on her neck, very gently, and worked on her breasts, kneading, stroking, chafing the swollen nipples between my fingers.

She was trembling against me by the time I put my hand on her thigh. She lifted up slightly so I could raise her skirt more easily. The fabric covering her cunt was hot and wet already, clinging to her as I peeled it down her legs. I tossed the hose and the panties after those killer pumps she'd worn for more than a day. Then I turned her on my lap so I could get my mouth on her tits and my hand inside her.

She whimpered frantically as I opened the wet folds and found her clit. It was as hard as my cock and slippery with her desire. I rubbed it, just so, watching her bite her lip to keep from crying out. I think she was afraid of waking Mulder, of hurting his feelings if we woke him up by having noisy sex. I didn't want to wake him, either, but we both needed this too much. I sucked one nipple into my mouth and slid my fingers inside her. I had to hold onto her tightly, she was twisting and writhing so much in my arms. "Oh Walter, please, yes, yes, oh, god--" under her breath, in my ear, while her fingernails bit like spikes into my shoulderblades. I gave her three fingers and fucked her steadily, feeling one climax after another clench down on my hand as I kissed and licked her breasts.

*****

When he took his hand out of me, I got up on my knees, straddling him, so he'd have room to open his robe and pull down his briefs. I was facing away from him, not able to see what he was doing; when he was ready, he took hold of my hips and pulled me down. God, I wanted this, his bigness, the way he kept hold of my hips and lifted me up and let me down, neither of us had room to move our hips much so he kept doing that, lifting me, grunting with pleasure not with effort, no effort to do this, I braced my hands on the arms of the chair and let it happen, hard and harder, until I couldn't hold back the sounds, he groaned deep in his chest and rammed into me, letting it all out, and I threw back my head and howled in one last, mind-wiping orgasm.

I slumped back against him, panting, and we sat there like that for a while. When I felt him start to shrink out of me, I sat up. He dug in the pocket of his robe and gave me a handkerchief, which I pressed between my legs as I got up and staggered blindly toward the bathroom.

Once there, I went ahead and took that shower, which felt damned good. For a long time, I just stood under the spray, which was as hot as I could stand it--bad for the skin, but good for the muscles. After slopping on moisturizer, I went into the bedroom to look for something to wear, and to check on Mulder. I was still flipping through the hangers, looking for a robe I thought I'd packed, when I heard something from him and turned around.

He was awake, looking at me with golden eyes that were still kind of sleepy, but alert and sad. I came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Did we wake you?" He nodded, and stretched out his arms to me. I got into the bed with him, ready to make love again, to give him what he needed even if I felt sore afterward, being fucked twice in an hour. But he only wrapped his arms around me, whimpering softly, and buried his face in my breasts. After a couple minutes, I realized he was asleep, and then, so was I.

*****

I think it was the creaking that woke me. Not a loud sound, but so familiar that I knew right away what it meant. The same sound my rear made against the leather surface of my couch when I jerked off.

I turned over in the wide bed, listening. There were other noises in rhythm with the low squeak of the leather: grunting, panting, smacking. Maybe I only imagined the smacking, the sound of his groin hitting her cunt, flesh against flesh, the low whispers of demand and affirmation. I knew those sounds were there. They were having sex without me.

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to have them on either side of me and hope that, between his body and hers, I could forget Krycek. The wound I'd thought was healing had been torn open violently, and I felt like I was bleeding, strength draining away in an invisible red flood. I was too tired to wipe the tears running down my face, let alone get up and go join them. Do women feel this exhausted when they cry? I bit my lip and buried my face in the pillow when I heard Scully cry out, a triumphant howl of pleasure. Why would she need or want me while she had him?

I must have dozed again and been wakened a second time by the rattling of the hangers. I opened my eyes to see Scully's naked back and damp hair. She was looking for something in the closet. Must have unpacked everything while Walter had me in the shower. I stirred, and she turned around, smiling at me as she came to sit on the bed.

"Did we wake you?"

I nodded, hoping I wouldn't start crying again. I reached out for her, and she got into the bed with me. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her breasts, beautiful breasts. She smelled clean and faintly herbal. She stroked and kissed my hair, and I knew she was ready for me if I wanted her, but I fell asleep again holding her close to me, breathing in the scent of her breasts.

*****

When I heard the shower running, I got up, got myself together, and went into the kitchen. Something smelled good; it turned out to be some kind of stew Scully must have thrown together, in a crock pot. I found some beer and a loaf of bread in the fridge, tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the stew. When I was finished, I went to piss and then stood outside the bedroom door, wondering whether to go in. Were they making love? Would they want me or need me to join them? I stood there, eavesdropping shamelessly, and was pretty sure I heard snoring, but nothing else. When I eased open the door and looked in, they were cuddled up together, Scully's head underneath Mulder's chin, and they both appeared to be asleep despite his snoring.

I closed the door and came over to the bed, moving without any noise. There was room on Mulder's other side, at his back, so I took off my robe and slithered under the covers. There was a soft sighing noise that might have come from either or both of them, but no other reaction. I must have fallen asleep in a couple of heartbeats.

*********

I woke up and thought I was still dreaming. I opened my eyes and looked into a cloud of fire: Scully's hair, so close to my face I couldn't focus on it, so close I was breathing it in and it was tickling my nose.

And there was heat behind me, something bigger and heavier than Scully's warm little body tangled in my arms. I snaked my arm from around her waist and turned over onto my back, an inch at a time. It was barely light in the room, but when I turned my head, that was unmistakably Walter Skinner asleep on my other side. He was lying on his back, snoring, his left arm falling off the bed. I'd never seen him look so relaxed, not even after we'd had sex together.

<This must be a dream. It can't be possible to reach out and touch both of them at the same time.> My one arm was still underneath Scully, and feeling a little numb, but a good numb. I brushed the back of my other hand across Walter's chest, broader and hairier than mine. They were both so... solid. Not like my fantasies. Better, I guess, but I still wasn't used to it.

*****

I must have noticed his arm wasn't around me any more. I rolled over, into the hollow of Mulder's underarm, and saw across his chest Walter, sleeping beside us. He looked so young. I looked up at Mulder, and he was smiling. A wonderful smile, sweet, happy. I smiled back, my heart so full I wanted to cry. Dear God, here we all were. The three of us had slept in one bed. For hours, apparently, since it was almost too dark to see in the room.

I stretched up and switched on the lamp. After a moment Walter stirred, his eyes flicking open to wakefulness with frightening speed. Mulder's hand was against his chest, and I reached over to touch him, too, brushing my fingers along his eyebrow and cheekbone, touching what the glasses usually hid.

Walter propped himself up on his elbow and looked at us. I think Mulder and I were both waiting to see what he would do. Then he laid his hand on Mulder's chest, fingers spread out, and my hand and Mulder's covered it. This was going to be all right.

Mulder started to say something, and Walter shut him up--with a kiss. I watched, fascinated as a cat before a fishtank. How often does a women get to see two grown men kiss, only a few inches away? Walter slanted his lips over Mulder's, rubbing from side to side. Mulder's eyes slid closed, and Walter deepened the kiss by taking that gorgeous, irresistible lower lip between his own. Yes! My grip on Walter's hand, and Mulder's grip on mine, tightened almost simultaneously. God, they weren't holding back now, they were really tasting one another. Two people, of whatever sex, who are really kissing with love and passion--it doesn't look like actors kissing. It's awkward and messy and noisy and very, very arousing to watch.

*****

They were both looking at me, waiting for me to make the first move. I admit my first thought was to get out of bed, let them be alone together, maybe Mulder would talk to her. I put my hand on his chest, tentatively, and Mulder's hand and Dana's both came to cover it. That felt like a good sign. It was pretty obvious they were waiting for me to take the next step, and if I couldn't do it now, I might as well get out of the bed and walk away from the two of them and never come back. So I kissed Mulder.

Too many hours had gone by since I kissed the man. I heard a sharp little intake of breath, Dana's, wondered how she'd feel about this, then I didn't care. I had to taste that mouth of his some more. I deepened the kiss and felt her hand tighten on mine, pressing in. Mulder moaned, a vibration I could only feel in my mouth, and I knew he had just gotten hard as stone, in an instant. Not only could I remember what that was like, I think it was happening to *me* for the first time in years.

*****

I got hard so fast it hurt, really really hurt. Her pressed against my side and him only inches away, kissing me the way he does. I'd always imagined he'd kiss in that quick, jerky way Kirk used to, on the original Star Trek, but he doesn't. He takes it slowly and makes you want it, want more, want anything.

I think all three of us were moaning pretty loudly by the time he drew back. And then Dana kissed me, hard, biting at me, licking the taste of Walter out of my mouth. Shit, it was really happening. They were going to make love to me. They might even make me forget....

Scully pulled back when she realized I was crying. Shit, fuck, I hated this, I couldn't help myself. I felt two pairs of arms go around me, felt Walter pull me against his chest and Scully curl up on my chest, both of them holding and soothing and petting me. I was still hard, still hungry for what they had to offer, but I was hurting so badly from Krycek that it didn't go any deeper than my skin. I wanted to crawl out of my skin with shame. I wanted to tell them not to touch me, I was poisoned, infected, contagious.

"You have to talk about it, Mulder." That was Scully. "You have to get the poison out."

"We're not going anywhere. You told me in the shower, and I didn't run away. Scully ought to hear this."

I choked silently. "She doesn't know about Krycek."

"What?"

"She doesn't know!" I opened my eyes and looked from one to the other. "I never told her."

Scully sat up and gave me one of those lasers-piercing-the-soul looks that she does so well, the one that always makes me squirm and then come clean. "Mulder," she said very softly, "what haven't you told me? What do I need to know to help you right now?"

*****

He couldn't say it. I could see it burning him up from the inside out, see that it would leave a charred hunk of flesh if he didn't get it out of him, but he couldn't say it. He looked at me, tears running down his face, and his eyes looked almost orange; they silently begged me to tell her what he couldn't.

I ran my fingers lightly through her hair. "While they were working together, Mulder had a relationship with Alex Krycek."

The heat behind those blue eyes went up to solar temperatures. Her lips pursed, her jaw clamped shut, and two straight lines of tension came out on her forehead. You could almost see the variations she went through: anger at Mulder for never telling her; anger at Krycek for betraying Mulder so personally; anger at Mulder for wanting to keep it from her even now; anger at Krycek for kidnapping Mulder just when he was on the brink of becoming ours. The anger escalated until I thought she'd just explode, but right before it went critical, she got up off the bed, turned her back to us, and spat out, "If I ever get my hands on that bastard, I'll take his other arm off with my *teeth*."

As soon as her shoulders relaxed, she got back into bed with us, put one hand on Mulder's chest and smoothed his hair back from his face. "You have to tell me, Mulder." In spite of her little outburst, her voice was so sweet it could have attracted bees, put the world's worst insomniac to sleep, or waked the dead. He couldn't possibly resist that kind of persuasion: a softly spoken request from a naked Scully who gazed at him with luminous healing warmth in her eyes.

*****

I never could resist Scully. Disagree with her, defy her, run away from her when she scared me, but not resist, not when she really leaned on me. And I knew that if I wanted her, right now, and/or permanently, I was going to have to tell her this story. I was going to have to be really naked, naked inside.

"Turn out the light." Without asking any questions, she did it. The sun had set completely, and without the light, it was black in that room. Black as Krycek's heart. I could talk about him in the darkness, admit what I had felt, still felt for him.

"He'd been following me for two weeks. That's what he told me. He didn't say why, only that he saw what was happening. That the three of us were together. Said he wanted to make sure I didn't forget him. Wanted me to be sure I could live without--that."

*****

I'd been following Mulder for two weeks. I had an excuse, somebody to report to, but mostly it was for me. I needed to see him. Wanted to get close enough to smell him, to rub my hands over his perfect suit and coat, to mess up his hair.

When I lost my arm, I was on morphine for a while. Got hooked on it. Hated the fact that I needed my daily dose, even after the arm was basically healed. It wasn't to make the pain go away--it was to make the craving go away. What I feel for Mulder is exactly like that. I crave him and I hate the craving. He can't even make the pain go away; he can only fill some niche in my mental chemistry that was carved out for him and by him. I need Mulder like the old bastard needs his Morleys. I need Mulder like I need my next breath.

They probably thought they were hiding it well, from everybody, but not from me. When you live in the dark like I do, you learn to see in the dark. I saw him and Scully get into her car together after work, and I knew she'd had him. Knew she was taking him home. No big surprise, no big threat. Part of him has always belonged to Scully, even when he was mine, my slave. I don't need or want that part. I can share with her. Mulder gets something from her he can't get from me, but then, he gets something from me he can't get from her. She's got too much morality to treat him the way he really wants. Yeah, she's a bitch, but I respect the bitch: She's every bit as strong as I am.

But when I saw him with Skinner--shit. I can't tell you what that was like. Yeah, I can. It was like losing my arm again. It was the phantom pain you get when you lose a limb, when something aches that isn't there any longer. I'd had Mulder on his knees in front of me, hands cuffed, sucking my cock. And that part of him was mine. I wasn't going to share it with anyone else.

I tailed them that night they all went out to dinner together. Can you believe it--I ate in the same restaurant. No shit. They were so wrapped up in one another, they wouldn't have noticed me if I'd been the waiter. Dangerous, Agent Scully, dangerous, Agent Mulder. And Mr. Skinner, you ought to know better. They were reckless. Their guard was down.

Then they gave me the opening I needed. Scully got into Skinner's car and Mulder drove alone. I followed him all the way home, over an hour's drive. He must have been thinking about Scully's pussy not to have noticed somebody tailing him for an hour. Or maybe it was Skinner's cock. Anyway, he got out of the car and I had him. He's flexible, Mulder is; he bends easily. Breaks easily if you know where.

I took him back to where I was staying. Stripped him and tied him up. Where I come from, you learn to do these things, easily, without scruples. It's necessary. For a long time I just sat and watched him. Looked at him. As if he were a holy icon. Saint Mulder, martyr of the FBI. Never in my life have I seen a man more beautiful. Gorgeous. Long and lean, with angles in all the right places. Sometimes so graceful he could be a dancer, and sometimes a fool who trips over his own feet. I looked at his eyes, golden with anger, his nose, too big but who cares, his mouth, that incredibly luscious mouth, that pouty lower lip. The jut of his collarbone. The tufts of hair in his armpits. How flat his stomach is. Those long, long legs. He runs like a girl, but those legs sure are beautiful. And his cock, which, as I'd expected, was starting to get hard as I watched him.

I looked at him, and he cursed me out in several different languages. I didn't know Latin had so many dirty words. Finally he threw back his head--made me want to bite that pretty throat--and said, "What do you want with me, Krycek?"

I smiled. "Just you, Mulder. Just you."

I got up and knelt beside him, put my left hand on his shoulder. I leaned in close to him and whispered. "I know about you and your partner, Mulder, you and your boss. You look good when you get enough sex. You get a healthy glow. I just don't want you to forget me when you're lying between Scully and Skinner. I don't want you to forget what I can give you, 'cause I don't think you're gonna get it from them."

I dragged my mouth slowly from his ear to his lips, and kissed him. He tried to jerk away, tried to bite me, and moaned when I bit him. He likes that, being bitten. The harder the better. I got my tongue in his mouth and kissed him until there was no trace of any other lover there. Just me and Mulder, locked together in this small dark room not unlike his own apartment.

He whimpered when I let go of him. His eyes were green and terrified. I knew what frightened him, though I wouldn't admit it. It frightened me, too--how much we wanted one another. I wanted so badly to bury my cock in his sweet ass and forget who I was, who he was, why I hated him, why he hated me. But not yet. And then only for a moment.

"You want it, Mulder. You want me. You want this." I slapped him so hard he didn't have time to jerk away. His head whipped around and came back. My hand stayed on the red splotch on his cheek.

"I can give you what you need. And you can go back to your lovers, unharmed. They'll never know. Or I can let you go now, and by tomorrow everybody in the Bureau will know that Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek were lovers--even after Krycek was exposed as an enemy."

Mulder's face worked. The heat of his skin nearly burned my hand. So perfect. I've had lots of lovers, women and men, but few I've wanted to share this with, and none as good as Mulder. He nodded. I pressed my lips to his cheek.

"I'm going to untie you. You give your word you won't try to get away?"

"I give you my word, Alex."

Oh god, it had been so long. So long since I'd heard my name on his lips. I wanted to hear him say it over and over, say it while I fucked him, beat him, used him. I untied him and helped him to stand up. He was shivering a little, maybe from cold, maybe not. Without turning my back on him, I went and turned up the heat so we'd be comfortable.

"Kneel."

Mulder dropped to his knees, bowing his head. Yes, beautiful. I secured his hands behind him with his own cuffs, lingering for a moment to look at the curve of his spine, the tension in his shoulders. He would always want this. I would always be there to give it to him.

I came around in front of him again and slowly undid my fly, pushed down my jeans. I hadn't bothered with underwear, and my cock felt like it had prints on it from pressing against the zipper. It jumped out and bumped Mulder's cheek as if it knew him. "You know what to do."

He raised his head, just a little too far--I could see his eyes, hot green, before he bent half an inch and took me in his mouth. He didn't hurry, and I didn't make him--yet. I wanted to take time to admire the shape of his lips around the head of my cock, the way his cheekbones show when he sucks, the shadows his lashes make. He remembered everything I like, how to use his tongue, when to take it down a little deeper. Like I knew he would.

I ran my fingers into his hair, softly, brushing his temple and his cheekbone and his ear. I massaged the tension from his scalp and pushed forward just a little, not too much. I felt him murmur and he opened his mouth a little wider, welcoming me. "That's good, Mulder. Very good. You still know how to do this. I'll bet Skinner appreciates your talents." I gave him a couple inches more. "Are you this good at eating pussy?"

He started to pull away, of course--and that's when I got my fingers across the back of his skull and deep-throated him. He gagged, shuddered, quickly recovered. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I had to watch him do it, watch the stress on his lips as I fucked his face. "Take it, Mulder, you can take it, you know how--" He sucked on me, hard, as merciless as I was, and I couldn't say anything more, not even his name, as I exploded in his mouth.

I kept my feet only because I was hanging on to him. He hung on to me with his mouth until I pushed his head away. He is so gorgeous right after he gives head, his mouth hanging open, his lips flushed and swollen and dripping with come. He was panting and just as hard as I'd been until a few minutes ago.

I hauled him to his feet and pushed him face down on the bed, then dropped beside him. It had been so long since I'd come that good, it was going to take me a little while to recover. I lay there and very slowly, very gently, ran my hand over his beautiful back, his ass and thighs and shoulders. Just to remind him that we were far from done yet.

*****

Mulder was sobbing in the darkness, sobbing like a broken-hearted child. I stroked him and petted him, my hands running into Walter's, but he was cringing as we touched him, telling us not to. Trying to tell us that he didn't deserve it. I was appalled, beyond appalled, outraged by what that son of a bitch had done to him. I wasn't sure if we'd be able to save him. I wasn't sure if he wanted us to.

"Mulder," I said softly, "he kidnapped you. He threatened to ruin your career and ours. You only did it because he coerced you."

"No!" Mulder shifted under my hands, turned away. "He threatened me, Scully, but he didn't have to. I wanted to do it, I would have done it just because he asked me, I *liked* it--" He shuddered so fiercely that I thought he was going to throw up. "Please, let me go, let me leave you--"

"No." Walter's voice cut through the darkness. "We're not giving up on you. You're not going anywhere. We're not going anywhere. Not until this is finished." I heard a kiss and bent forward myself to kiss whatever part of Mulder was nearest--his arm? "You can tell us everything, Fox. Tell us everything."

*******

I'd never seen so much shame in a man. It scared me. It made me ashamed to be a man. This wasn't the first time I'd ever felt that way, but it was the worst. It was like Mulder was bleeding all over the bed, and I didn't know where the wound was, to staunch it. I could tell he didn't want to be touched, but we had to touch him, had to let him know we were there, and had to make him bleed all the poison out. I didn't want to touch his back just then, touch the marks from the beating, but I stroked his hair and rubbed at the knots at the base of his skull.

*****

I ran my fingers along the cleft of Mulder's ass, and he made a noise I can't describe. I knew what it meant, though: Fuck me, Alex. I used to make him beg, used to drive him so wild he couldn't even speak, couldn't say words--he'd just whimper until I made him say my name, say, "Fuck me, Alex." And when I gave him what he wanted, he'd scream, really scream. I loved making him scream. I could do it now. Even now. That little noise told me so.

I got up, got the key, and undid the handcuffs. He didn't resist as I rolled him onto his back and fixed his hands to the headboard. He didn't even try to rub his wrists, which had marks on them from the metal cuffs. If he had resisted, of course he would have gotten away; I wasn't holding a gun on him, and he could have outrun me, outwitted me. He didn't want to get away, and we both knew it. I cuffed him to the headboard with leather cuffs, pulling them tight, and his eyes never left my face as he let me do it.

When I had him in place, I stripped my clothes off. Right down to the skin, and took off the prosthesis, too. I wanted him to see me as I was, see who had gotten the upper hand on him. A man with only one hand, only one arm. Then I knelt over his thighs and cupped his face in that hand.

"When I speak to you, you answer, 'Yes, Alex,' or 'No, Alex,' or more if I ask for it. You understand?"

"Yes, Alex."

God, that sounded delicious. I might be able to come again just by getting him to say my name enough times.

"Did you like sucking me off?"

"Yes, Alex."

"Have you sucked Skinner off?"

He swallowed before he answered. "Yes, Alex."

"Is his cock bigger than mine?"

"Yes, Alex."

"Has he fucked you in the ass?"

"Yes, Alex."

"Do you want me to fuck you in the ass?"

"Yes, Alex."

"*Do* you really, Mulder?"

His face was flaming red. "Yes, Alex."

I ran the backs of my fingers over his cheek, pressed his lips with my thumb. He arched a little as I drew my fingernails slowly down his throat and down his chest. Where to go next? Talking was definitely pushing his buttons, just as it always had, so I might as well indulge myself. Starting to play with his nipples, I went on, "So do you fuck your partner, Mulder?"

"Yes, Alex." He closed his eyes. Opened them again when I slapped him.

"You keep your eyes open and on me. At all times."

"Yes, Alex." He focused on my face.

"Good boy, Mulder." I pinched one nipple. "Now then. Do you lick her pussy?"

His voice was raspy. "Yes, Alex."

I scratched around one nipple and then the other with my nails. "Is her pussy hair red?"

"Yes, Alex." He squirmed as I licked his chest.

"Is it the same color as the hair on her head?"

"Yes, Alex."

Bending over to lick at him pressed my cock into his belly. I was hard again, already, and he was throbbing underneath me, dripping. "Does she come when you lick her?"

"Yes, Alex." He drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"Does she come when you fuck her?"

"Yes, Alex."

"What is it like when she comes?"

Mulder's eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, not long enough for me to punish him for it. When he answered me, his voice was deeper, and warm with something that wasn't just arousal, although I heard that, too. "She purses her lips as she gets closer and closer. And her eyebrows draw together into a little knot." He smiled faintly. "Her eyes go closed, and then, when it hits her, her eyes and her mouth fly open, open wide. She doesn't scream. She makes this, this yowling noise deep in her chest, like a wild animal. It's incredibly sexy hearing her do that and feeling her clench around me--"

I twisted his nipple until he cried out, and then bit down on the other one. When I raised my head, he was gasping, and I saw tiny beads of blood forming on his chest. "She doesn't do this for you," I whispered. I kissed away the blood, touched my tongue to his nipple. "And she can't fuck you, can she, Mulder?"

His answer was lost as I covered his mouth with mine, tasting traces of my come and making him taste his blood on me.

*****

"He left me after that. Just walked out and left me tied to the bed, maybe for half an hour. Getting control of himself. The bastard." Mulder made a noise like wooden boards breaking as he tried to get his breath. "And when he came back, he whipped me."

I clenched my fists in the bedsheets and envisioned breaking every bone in Alex Krycek's body, each one separately, with my bare hands. Yeah, I could do that. I've done much harder things.

I'd known about the beating already; I'd seen the marks of it in the shower and made him tell me. But I was furious all over again. It wouldn't have surprised me if I'd seen Scully's eyes glow in the dark with fury. I could tell she was as mad as I was just by her breathing.

"But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that--I *liked* it when he beat me. I always did. He taught me to like it. He would make me beg for it." 

Mulder snuffled, and a hand closed over mine. Scully's, gripping so tightly it was like to break my fingers. "He taught me to like it, to want it--oh, god, I could have gotten away, I could have gotten away from him, but I didn't want to, I didn't want to...."

*****

I had to get control of myself. I knew how he cared for Scully, sure, but I hadn't counted on this. The tenderness. How it scraped at me, scraped me raw. Made me want to hurt her as well as him. Made me want to hurt myself because I'd never have that from him.

I left him for almost half an hour, tied to the bed. Went out and walked around the block. Nobody got near me, I must have looked as angry as I felt. Raging. What could she do for him that I couldn't? What could he want from her that I couldn't give? Tenderness. When I came back, I took the belt off my pants.

He was strained and white, the pain in his arms visible to someone who knows how to look, the pulse jumping in his throat. "No, Krycek, please--"

I lashed out and struck him across the shin. "Bad boy, Mulder. You didn't call me 'Alex'."

It took me a couple minutes to get him rolled over and re-cuffed. If he had struggled, I would have lost him, but he didn't. I knew he wouldn't. His throat was working silently, his eyes glittering through his lashes. It was for looks like that I made him mine, taught him to want what I can give, to give me what I can take. He's so beautiful it hurts me.

I got some pillows under his hips. Spread his legs just so. Beautiful long slim muscles, skin fair enough in places to trace the blue veins. Just a little bit of strain on those muscles, on his hips. He was whimpering now, ready for it, and so was I, not so angry any more that I'd just flog him to death. No, I wanted him to like this. I knew he would.

Start slow, that's rule number one. Approach the territory of pain gradually, very gradually. It was pain like nothing I'd ever known when they cut my arm off. Nothing could take that away. I started on the backs of his thighs, not hard enough to leave a mark. He's pretty sensitive there. Even though the first blows were light, he tensed up against every one. Mulder is incredibly tense most of the time. He looks so loose, so relaxed, but it's really just a good act. He needs to be whipped in order to relax.

Harder blows, but not faster, on his rear. That perfectly gorgeous ass. That muscle can take a lot of whipping, even if there's very little fat to pad it. I made sure to cover his whole ass with the belt, get it uniformly red. He kept arching up as the belt hit him, wanting it, not wanting it, fighting it like he always did. Silent. I would break his silence.

Save your big effects for the shoulders. That's where it really hurts. All those old toga pictures, Jesus or Spartacus or Ben Hur getting flogged. Wonderful pictures. Quicker, lighter, sharper blows over those exquisite shoulders. His spine formed wiggling s-shapes like a snake. Little sounds were torn out of him, choking, gasping. Needy sounds. "Good, Mulder. I want to hear it. You can hear the belt fall on your skin. I want to hear you feel it."

Hard now, putting my whole weight behind it. Striping his back. Once or twice I broke the skin. Mulder making this noise like a cat in rut, a feral wordless yowling, a tuneless song that might mean pleasure or pain, that meant both. Finally I worked my way down his back from shoulders to thighs, even blows that put horizontal marks on his skin, neatly parallel. I try to be good at whatever I do.

I tossed the belt aside and knelt on the bed between his legs. He was crying softly, his face buried in the sheets. He was completely limp now, completely surrendered. I fished in my pocket and got out the lube, thumbed it open and drizzled it over his crack. Mulder whimpered. "Yes, baby, I'm going to fuck you now. Me, Alex Krycek. The rat bastard himself."

I chuckled and worked my hand between his ass cheeks. He kept on whimpering, which I love, while I smoothed the sticky lube over his asshole and then into it. "You're a slut, Mulder," I said conversationally. "You're a bigger slut than anyone I've ever seen. You'd do anything for a cock up your ass, even take mine." I got two fingers into him, felt for his prostate. He groaned and pushed back against me as much as he could.

"And you still have the tightest little ass. Maybe Skinner's dick isn't as big as I've always thought."

I didn't linger. I drizzled the rest of the lube over myself, then got Mulder up on his knees. It's not easy to get into the hole if you've only got one hand to work with. But he moved his hips to give me the right angle and I slid inside, into the tight slick heat of Fox Mulder's body.

Start slow and approach the territory gradually. It's true for fucking as well as whipping. I'd already come once, and it was fairly easy to hold back, to work my way up to what I really wanted, which was also what he wanted. But he was tight and slick and angry and eager, gasping, moving with me, his hips begging me for me, and all too soon I was hammering into him, grunting, hearing him grunt, sweating, swearing, gasping.

"Alex, please--please, Alex, touch me, oh--"

"No." My fingers dug into his shoulder, into the welts. "You're gonna come like this or not at all. You're gonna come just from me fucking you, Mulder. I know you can. Come, come on, come--"

I drove into him hard and fast, right over the gland, and he shuddered underneath me, kept shaking. I was close, so was he, how, what.... I leaned over him, my chest on his back, my heat and sweat on the beltmarks, the stump of my arm grazing him, and whispered, "Just you and me, Mulder. No Skinner, no Scully. Just you and me and this. I'm gonna make you come--"

I sank my teeth into him and he screamed, falsetto, a ripping tearing sound, and came, his ass muscles clenching so hard I thought they'd rip off my cock, and so I came, shooting into him with all the force in my body, the tears coming to my eyes despite everything.

*****

What could we say to him? What could we do for him, except hold him? I held onto him, tight, until the dry, broken-sounding sobbing stopped. Walter was on the other side of Mulder, as close as he dared to get, rubbing the back of his head. But when he tried to move away, I let him. Mulder slithered out from between us, and Walter and I both turned on the light.

Mulder looked like hell. I guess we did, too. His face was red and blotchy from crying; his shoulders were in knots; you could still see the marks of the whipping on his back. I'd been crying with him, and I felt cold and naked without his warm weight on my chest and stomach. I wiped my face and watched him pace back and forth like a caged panther. He was obviously trying to get hold of himself, to put his mind back in control.

"Look," he said finally, "I really think I should leave."

Walter and I both sat up and kind of crouched forward. "Leave?" Walter asked sharply.

Mulder sniffed. "You two have something really special. I don't want to get in the way of that. You don't need me dumping shit like this all the time over what could be a beautiful relationship--"

Almost before Mulder's hand reached the doorknob, Walter pounced. It's amazing how fast he can move, as big as he is. One second he was on the bed at my side, the next he was pinning Mulder to the wall, chest to chest.

"I don't think you quite understand the situation, Agent Mulder." It was almost a snarl. "Agent Scully and I have a very agreeable relationship, but it isn't everything it could be. It isn't *complete*, without you. She wants you. She needs you. *I* want you. And need you. And I intend to see that Scully and I get what we want and need."

"You need it, too, Mulder." I came up behind them and saw, over Walter's shoulder, the terror on Mulder's face--and the pleasure. He *wanted* to be pushed around. Walter had done the exact right thing. "You need both of us. I can't be everything you need. Neither can Walter. But together, we can. We're not letting you go."

Walter eased away and let Mulder regain his balance. "Now do we have to tie you to the bed, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder rubbed his wrists, as if he'd just been uncuffed. "No, not tonight. Maybe later." Neither of us returned his weak grin.

*****

I woke up alone in bed the next morning with an incredible mixture of smells in my head. Coffee brewing, bacon frying, eggs, too, and a hint of something perfumey. I got up and headed for the bathroom, and when I opened the door, a wave of perfume hit me, sandalwood and patchouli. I heard splashing.

"Hello?"

Scully was in the tub. "It's me, Scully. Gotta pee."

"Okay."

After I finished, I opened the shower door and peeked in. Even more fragrance made me dizzy for a second, but not too dizzy to appreciate the sight of Scully, face scrubbed, hair slick, covered with glistening bubbles from her shoulders to her calves. Her little feet were propped up on the edge of the tub. She smiled peacefully.

"Smells nice."

She nodded. "It's my favorite. Crabtree and Evelyn Sandalwood."

She stretched out a wet, soapy hand to me, and I brushed my fingers against hers, then left her alone to soak.

In the kitchen I found AD Walter Skinner looking like everybody's favorite dad on Sunday morning. Dressed in a big plaid flannel robe, he was frying bacon in one skillet and cooking a huge heap of scrambled eggs in the other. He grinned at me casually and gestured with the spatula. "Coffee's over there, Mulder. Is Scully close to getting out of the tub?"

I grabbed a mug off the counter. "Looked like she was in for the duration to me." I gulped half my coffee black, letting it hit me before I poured more and fixed it up with cream and sugar.

"I'm here." Scully drifted in, wrapped in her white terrycloth robe. It suddenly dawned on me that I was stark naked.

"Uh, do I have any clothes to wear?"

"Yeah, if you want to. I think you look just fine." Grinning, Walter turned off the flame under the skillets and led me back into the bedroom to show me where my clothes were. I pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants and went back to the kitchen. Scully was setting the table, so I helped out by putting out milk and sugar for the coffee, butter and jelly for the biscuits Walter unexpectedly took out of the oven.

"Damn, you're domestic," I observed. Scully gulped her coffee.

"If I'd known you could make coffee like this, Walter, I'd have jumped you years ago."

"You two probably thought I lived on tin cans and newspaper, like a goat." In a couple of minutes he had everything on the table, and conversation ceased as we chowed down. I was suddenly ravenous, and it looked like the two of them had just noticed how long it had been since their last meal.

I was sucking up my third cup of coffee before I got the nerve to ask what had been on my mind for a while. "So why are we here?"

The other two exchanged brief glances. "To give you time to recover," Walter said blandly. "We all had vacation time piled up. We figured we could use some of it to--sort things out."

Scully nodded. She was watching me like a cat watches a mousehole. "You've been hurt, Mulder, not just physically. You need time to heal. We want to help you."

"He's going to come after me, you know." I said this as casually as I could manage.

"He can't follow you here." Walter sounded supremely confident.

"How do you know that?" I couldn't keep my voice from rising. "He could be out there now, watching us, in the woods." I got to my feet.

"Is that what you fear, Mulder, or is that what you hope?" Those terrible blue eyes didn't waver.

"He could kill all three of us. And it would be my fault."

Quicker than I could turn, Walter grabbed my wrist, tight. "Don't even think about trying the car, Mulder. We've already hidden the distributor caps."

The wind went out of my sails. "I don't want Krycek to hurt you," I said feebly. Walter's grip on my wrist changed to a caress.

"We don't want him to hurt you, Fox."

Scully stood up. "Help me with the dishes, Mulder?" She gave me an irresistible smile.

*********

"He went out and slept on the couch last night."

"I noticed."

"God, but I missed him."

"I did, too."

"Walter, we're losing him. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Dana. Christ, I don't know."

*****

I told her I didn't know what to do for Mulder. That wasn't strictly true. The truth was that I had a damned good hunch what Mulder needed right now, and I was afraid of trying to give it to him.

I'd jumped him and slammed him up against the wall because I didn't know any other way to get him to cut the shit, to get through his defenses. His mind is like a windmill: When the blades get going, they look like a solid surface. You have to be audacious and stick something through the surface to find that it's just an illusion.

Mulder can outthink me and outtalk me, but he can't outrun me or outfight me. So I'd used the only advantage I had, physical force. And he had gotten hard as a rock in nothing flat. His eyes had gone green as jade, with gold rims around the pupil, fear and arousal in one look. He wanted me to top him. And Christ, I didn't want to have to do that. I had to push him around for his own good five days a week. I just wanted to lay back and show a little tenderness on the weekends, the tenderness I'd had to bottle up for so long, towards him, towards Dana. Like the first time we'd been together.

But now the bastard had withdrawn from us. We could keep him from taking a car, but we couldn't keep him from running away inside, into that weird little Mulderland inside his head where nothing can really hurt, where pain is pleasure and pleasure is anaesthetic. And the only way to get him out might be to break out the whips and chains.

*****

I was a little scared when Walter first told me about his plan. I thought it might send Mulder over the edge, into a break. But I kept waking up at night and finding Mulder not there, half-asleep on the couch while Walter and I reached for each other because we couldn't reach him. My cunt was sore from the desperate, almost angry fucking we were giving one another, and my lip was half bitten through from my useless attempts to stifle my noises. I swear one night, Mulder stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching silently as Walter licked my clit and fucked me with his fingers. I tried to hold back, I swear I did, but it was just too hard, too good, and I threw back my head and screamed, and when I could see again, the Mulder-shadow was gone.

So I said yes. Yes, I'd do it, I'd countenance it, but I'd mostly watch. He'd have to run things, and then I'd pick up the pieces. Good cop, bad cop, you see. He said okay.

*****

I woke up. I'd been sleeping with my arms above my head, on the pillow, and they felt a little numb, but I woke up and held still. I listened to Dana breathe and Walter snore until I was sure they were really asleep, not faking it. Then I started to slither toward the foot of the bed, like I had on other nights. Pressure on my wrists stopped me.

The light on Walter's side of the bed snapped on. He looked at me without any expression at all. "Gotcha."

Dana turned over and sat up, blinking. She smoothed rumpled hair out of her eyes--I wished I could do it for her, but my hands were tied--and fixed me with The Scully Look (tm). "Going somewhere, Mulder?"

"Apparently not," I joked. Neither of them smiled. I tried to crane my neck back and see how I was restrained, but I couldn't.

"Clothesline, Agent Mulder," Walter said. "Got it when I went out for groceries yesterday." He showed his teeth in something that wasn't exactly a smile. "And I'm willing to bet I can tie a few knots you can't undo."

My heart slammed, once, in my chest and then started tapping out a fast, jittery beat. Was it really happening? They were both looking at me, cool, contained looks like I might get from Scully on a case, or from Walter over a report he didn't like. And my hands were tied above my head just tightly enough so I could feel it in the undersides of my arms.

I tugged at the rough ropes. Just so I could feel them. God, they felt good. I was starting to get hard. Walter got off the bed and rummaged around in one of the chests of drawers. Scully got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

"We're a little fed up with you, Agent Mulder." Walter sat down on the edge of the bed, a blue plastic grocery bag on his lap. For some reason he usually sleeps in his briefs. Socks, too, it was moderately cold in the cabin.

"We're here with the intention of helping you, and you're not willing to be helped. You don't cooperate. You go sleep by yourself at night. You wander around like a sleepwalker all day." Walter leaned forward, took his glasses off the nightstand, and put them on. His eyes disappeared behind them, behind the reflection, making his face unreadable. Between the glasses and the tone of voice, it was just like being at work. Only I was naked and tied to a bed, of course. That doesn't happen often enough at work.

"So I decided to do something that would get your attention. Do I *have* your attention, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir." I licked my lips.

"Good." Walter opened the blue plastic bag and fished around in it. I heard a flush from the bathroom, and the sound of a door, but Scully didn't come back. I tugged on the restraints a little more.

*****

God, this was hard. I didn't really want to do what I was about to do. On the other hand, I was also scared I'd get off on it way too much.

The first thing I took out of the bag was the leather cuffs. Mulder's eyes widened when he saw them, and he licked his lips again. Damn him. The smell of the leather made me want to be queasy, but I could see him harden in response, quickly and helplessly. Yeah, this was what he wanted, and he was right there for it, in body and mind.

A quick jerk on the ropes undid one wrist at a time. Leaning over him to buckle him into the cuffs, I could smell arousal on him, a sharp, clean scent like sage or cilantro. His lips were parted, his breathing hot on my ear. When I leaned back, his eyes were greener than ever, there were spots of color on his cheeks, and the tip of his cock was dripping. All because I'd put him into cuffs.

I lost my nerve for a minute and ducked into the bathroom. If anything, being left alone for a couple minutes would just make Mulder hotter. I looked at myself in the mirror and then turned away, hating what I saw. I was getting turned on by this myself. But looking at the shower just reminded me of how I'd found out what happened between him and Krycek.

//Mulder was barely on his feet. He swayed like he was drunk, standing on the bathmat, eyes down, shoulders sagging. I watched him for a moment, then started to undress him. He didn't resist, but he didn't exactly help, either. I got the tie and the jacket off without any trouble, but when I reached for his belt, he whimpered.

"It's okay, Fox. Just let me help you get in the shower."

He stiffened up a little bit in resistance as I undid the belt, unzipped the pants, and pushed them down his legs. Beautiful long slim legs; I had to remind myself that now was not the time to explore them with my tongue. I practically had to lift his feet out of the way and put them down again. Then I unbuttoned his shirt, which was limp and grimy and sweaty, and started to push it off his shoulders. Mulder yelped and knocked my hands away.

"Mulder, what is it? Are you injured?"

He didn't say or do anything for a minute. Then he slowly, very slowly and stiffly shrugged the shirt down his arms, and I saw the red stripes on his back, from his shoulders to his thighs. Everything went red for a second, and I held myself absolutely still; I've killed people without feeling anything when I've been that angry. My vision cleared and I unclenched my fists and my jaw and quite a few other muscle groups.

"Did Krycek do this to you?"

A slow nod, followed by a little choked sound. Tears started to pour down his cheeks, and his lips tightened, trying to hold in the grief.

"Let it out, Fox. Let it out."

I put one hand on his chest and with the other I touched his injured back as lightly as I could, not so much to comfort as to check the damage. Clumsily, Mulder pushed down his shorts, and I saw he was fully hard, as if I'd done something to arouse him. But I was only touching his sore back--

Christ, that was it, wasn't it?

He started to sob. I put my arms around him, held him, and he sobbed, trying to tell me what had happened but all he could get out was, "Alex, Alex--oh, god, Alex--"

When he'd calmed down a little bit, I got the shower going and took off my own clothes. I stepped in and he joined me, moving on his own to stand under the hot spray and let it run over him. Even then I couldn't help thinking how gorgeous he was with his hair slicked back and his throat exposed. He was shuddering as the water ran down his back, it must have hurt, but he stayed there just the same, so I soaped up my hands and started to wash his chest. I handled him very carefully, and the shuddering gradually eased off. When I turned him around, though, and worked on his back, it started up again, and the tears along with it.

I wrapped my arm around his chest and kept soaping his back, as lightly and easily as I could, as gently as possible. I let myself kiss his cheek and was hurt when he wrenched his head away.

"Tell me what happened, Mulder." I put some force behind the words.

He took a long, difficult breath. "You know the bastard and I were lovers. You knew it even before I told you. But you didn't guess he was my top."

I sucked air between my teeth. So the jealous little rat had tried to claim back his property? We'd see about that. I turned Mulder around again to rinse him off.

"He beat you."

"I let him."

"Fuck that, he tied you up, didn't he?"

"I didn't fight. I could have fought a man with only one arm."

"Shut up, Mulder. You want me to wash your hair?"//

I'd washed his hair, incredibly heavy soaked with water, and I hadn't done anything that sensual in years. It was so intimate, lathering that thick soft heavy hank, that it made fucking him look like an awkward first date.

And now I ran my hand over that hair, into it, twining my fingers until I was gripping hard. I tilted his head back and kissed him, and his mouth was like wet fire, as eager for my kiss as Scully's cunt, almost obscenely yielding. I hadn't gotten hard yet, but I did now, a quick hard-on that hurt like hell. I shoved my tongue down his throat and nearly smothered him, but he didn't pull away. He didn't resist at all. He wasn't going to resist anything I did to him.

*****

God, it was so good to be kissed, finally. To have his fingers in my hair and his tongue in my mouth and to think about having his cock in me while my hands were cuffed and I couldn't get away. I never wanted to get away. I only wanted this, this, him, and Scully, whatever they would do to me was okay....

When he let me go, I was panting. My cock so hard that one touch could have brought me off. But he didn't touch me. Instead, he rustled around in that blue bag again and took out a leather harness. A cock-and-ball harness.

I started trembling all over. Walter gripped my chin, tight, his lenses glinting at me. "I'm going to put this on you. And if you come while I do, I'll punish you."

<Oh yes please please please please punish me--> "Yes, sir."

He was extremely careful putting the harness on me, but he seemed to know what he was doing. It's like being tickled--it's not the firm touches that do it, but the light ones. He was just firm enough, and I got enough harder when the soft leather was tight around me, but it wasn't going to let me come. Walter wasn't going to let me come.

He got up and peeled off his briefs. Oh yes, he was hard. I'd almost forgotten how big his dick is, how good it feels inside me. He knelt over me, straddling my thighs, and looked down at me with that Assistant Director look on his face. He looked like he was ten feet tall and ten feet long.

"Do you know who's in charge here, Mulder?"

"You are, sir."

"Very good, Mulder. I'm the top, and you are--?"

"The bottom, sir."

"That's right. Now first of all, we need to agree on a safeword."

"I don't need one, sir."

He slapped me. Not hard, but he didn't hesitate. I couldn't believe it. I didn't think he'd actually do this for me.

"You don't make that decision, Mulder. I do. You're going to think of a safeword, tell me what it is, and use it if anything we do is painful or uncomfortable in any way."

"Yes, sir." I rolled it around in my head, what to say, then grinned. "Frohike."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"A friend of mine. Believe me, I don't think about him during sex."

"Very well then." He moved with that speed I could never quite believe and straddled my face. "Suck me, and don't stop until I stop coming."

I'd sucked Walter off before. I enjoy doing it, and he's a challenge because of his size. Not that I'd done it for anybody else but Alex, but Alex is built like me, no problem. Walter filled my mouth, no room to breathe, no room to think, the taste of him like the smell of Scully's perfume only raw, with no sweetness in it, more pepper than salt. So good. I'd listened to the two of them doing it, the low groans, the gasps, the whispering, the throaty noises Scully tried unsuccessfully to suppress; it made me want it, yet my body didn't want it. I didn't want to touch them or be touched. It was like some switch had been turned off and I didn't know where it was to turn it back on. It felt so good to desire and to be desired, to be given something I could accept and understand, to feel him pushing right on the edge of my gag reflex and all I wanted was to make him come.

I sucked and sucked, hard, used my tongue, arched up toward him until I did gag, his big balls resting over my throat. I opened my eyes for a moment and he looked like I was hurting him instead of driving him toward pleasure, we were driving one another toward pleasure, or maybe toward insanity, and I used my teeth on him just a little bit, along the underside--and with a shout like someone had punched him in the gut, he came, drowning me in it, flooding my mouth till I was choking, but I didn't care. He fell back on top of me, finally, on my chest and stomach; I was still trying to swallow and breathe at the same time when he rolled off of me and staggered out.

*****

I was sitting in the living room, trying to read a medical journal I'd brought along, when Walter came out. He jerked his thumb behind him.

"Go see he's all right."

I moved fast, my heart jumping ahead of me. Mulder was still tied up, his face covered with semen; he was gasping and coughing a little, but all right, physically, and obviously ecstatic, emotionally. I wiped his face off, kissed him on the cheek, and went back to Walter, who I guessed needed me a lot more at the moment.

He was hunched on the sofa with his hands over his face. "I thought I might have choked him," his voice muffled.

"He's all right." It's a wonder Mulder *didn't* choke, but I didn't say that. "What about you?" I sat down beside him.

"I don't know if I can do this." He shook his head. "If I don't know what I'm doing, I could kill him. And he'd probably let me."

I put my arm around him, and he leaned into me, hard. I got to my knees on the couch and wrapped both arms around him, and Walter Skinner, the Bureau's toughest AD, pressed his face into my chest and cried. I knew I'd have to be as strong for him sometimes as he was for me; I just didn't know it would come this soon. I held him and he cried, shaking in my arms, for a couple of minutes. I didn't try to keep him when he leaned away.

"I should go back to him. One of us should go back to him. I don't know if I can go any further tonight."

"I'll go. I'll bring you your robe, if you want, so you can lie down out here." We both knew I would have sex with Mulder if he wanted me.

Walter nodded, wiping his nose. "Okay."

Mulder seemed to be dozing when I went back in the bedroom. I got Walter's robe and an extra pillow without disturbing him. I stopped in the bathroom, too bemused to go right to Mulder. Here I was, aching to comfort one lover, wanting to take him inside me and give him my strength as he had given me his, and yet about to go to my other lover and yield myself to him if he wanted me. For a minute I leaned my head on the cool tile wall and imagined a world in which I didn't give a shit about Mulder and his problems, in which I could lie in Walter Skinner's arms all weekend without a twinge of guilt. Walter would respect my strength and know when I needed to rely on his; he'd be there whenever I needed him and allow himself to need me as well.

Then I pulled myself together, hung up my terrycloth robe, and went to Mulder.

*****

My Scully. She's so beautiful. I was glad to see her. I felt like I hadn't really looked at her in days. She knelt on the bed beside me, and I let my eyes roam all over her, her fiery blue eyes, her brilliant hair, the matching red curls over her pussy, the subtle, graceful curves of her breasts and hips and thighs. At that moment I felt the only thing more gorgeous than Scully was Walter, and the only thing more gorgeous than Walter was Scully.

"You've been a good boy, Mulder," she said soberly. "Would you like your reward now?"

"Only if you think I've been good enough."

She reached over my head and started to unbuckle the cuffs. "I do think so, and so does Walter." The cuffs came away, and I lowered my aching arms. "I'm your reward, Mulder."

For a minute or two, I just flapped my hands to get the circulation going again. Then I took off the harness and gave myself a couple of quick, hard strokes. Oh, yesss.... After waiting so long, being so hot, just to touch myself like that with Scully watching was more than enough to make me come. I groped for her, and she snuggled in against my side, small and warm and perfect. And suddenly I was hot all over again, getting hard, and wanted to make her feel as good as I had felt being topped by Walter.

*****

He turned over toward me, which I wasn't expecting. He'd already come, and I thought he'd probably just go to sleep. It was after four am, after all. But Mulder turned over, sighing, and kissed me. His lips searched mine, gently, patiently, and his tongue darted out and touched the little mole I'm always trying to hide, and in spite of myself, I felt the nerve endings waking up, feeling him, smelling him, tasting him, asking for more.

He made love to me as gently and thoroughly as he ever had. Kissing all the sensitive spots, long enough to leave marks, but not at all roughly. Licking all over my breasts as if they were ice cream cones, not sucking or nibbling, just licking, which wasn't enough to make me come, but was enough to make my honey run down my thighs. Licking up the honey with long slow strokes of his tongue, each one ending in a little twirl over my clit, over and over until I was shuddering in his arms with an orgasm as soft but persistent as distant thunder. I'd forgotten how good Mulder could be, how fervently he worshipped my body, how much I liked being worshipped. I whimpered ecstatically as he slid his cock into me and began to thrust, not hard, not fast, but smoothly, steadily, provoking another slow come and prolonging it until I was begging him to fuck me, to do it hard, to pound me. And when he finally pulled my legs over his shoulders and did it to me, I screamed like a banshee, the spasms going through me like knives, it was agony and ecstasy and death and resurrection, and afterward I sobbed helplessly in his arms and he held me, crooning into my hair.

*********

I heard Scully come. She's the loudest lover I've ever had. When she comes, she holds nothing back; every muscle tenses up and lets go, her hair turns into fire, and the most incredibly loud and erotic noises come out of her mouth. It's amazing because she's so quiet and soft-spoken most of the time. On the other hand, maybe it's *because* she's so quiet and soft-spoken most of the time.

I wanted her, badly. And him. No games, just sex, and tenderness. I really needed the tenderness. I was willing to give Mulder what he needed right now, to bring him back to me, but I wasn't going to stay in this relationship if it meant topping him permanently. I could stand just to have Scully, if she'd stay with me. I could even share her with Mulder, if she were willing.

<God this is hard. I can't believe I'm going through this.>

And then I heard her crying. That sound is even rarer and more astonishing than her orgasmic cries. Scully crying? Dana Katherine Scully? God knows I couldn't sleep out here. I had to go to her. Mulder be damned, I had to go to her.

I got up, belted up my robe, and went into the bedroom with my best macho swagger. What I saw broke my heart for a moment: Dana crying in Mulder's arms, him holding her, whispering to her, stroking her hair. I realized then how much I wanted to be the man she came to for those things. I could share her with Mulder as long as everybody understood that she and I were both taking care of him, that if she needed something, she'd come to me. Not to him.

Then Mulder looked up and waved to me to come over, and the anger melted away, or maybe just hid itself. I got into bed beside Dana, wrapping my arms around both of them, and the anger turned into triumph that I also hid when she turned over, turned to me. Dana leaned on me and Mulder on her, and the tears went away after a couple minutes. She sniffled and I gave her a tissue from the nightstand, and after she'd blown her nose and wiped her eyes, she kissed me.

I was flabbergasted. This wasn't a sweet, grateful kiss. There was nothing tender about it. It was voracious and demanding, the kiss of a woman who wants dick and wants it now. There was no way I could help responding, but even as I kissed her back with all the desire I'd tried to forget about, out there on the couch, I was thinking, <If this keeps up, we're going to be doing it in front of Mulder.> When she slipped her hand inside my robe, I figured that was exactly what she had in mind.

*****

I wanted this. I'd done my duty, I'd been caring and helpful, and now *I* wanted something. Both of them, to be precise. I wanted to be touched and kissed and licked and fucked until I went out of my mind, until there was no more Dana Katherine Scully, Catholic girl, Federal agent, forensic pathologist, cancer survivor--just a beautiful body whose needs were fully and completely met.

I kissed that hard mouth with all the force I could muster, and pretty soon Walter was responding in kind. <I want you I want you I want you> went through my head like a litany. I didn't care--Mulder could either join in or sleep on the couch. I needed this. I hoped he'd join in. I needed it all.

I slipped my hand into Walter's robe and pushed it open, running my hand over that wonderful expanse of hard muscle and coarse dark hair. Baldness is caused by excess androgens, you know.... He moaned into my mouth when I captured his nipple with thumb and forefinger. I bet the other women he's been with have been so impressed with his cock that they never got to his nipples. Well, he *is* pretty damned impressive in that department.

At the same time that Walter planted his lips on my throat, I felt a softer kiss on the back of my neck. Walter's head jerked up, and I looked over my shoulder at Mulder--they must have bumped heads. "*Yes*," I said, to both of them, and when nobody moved, I reached for Walter with one hand and Mulder for the other. Walter was already huge, the blunt head slippery, and Mulder was on his way despite having come twice already. God, I love horny men. They think they're so desperate for sex, with that long thing sticking out in front of them; they usually have no idea how much more desperate a quiet, proper, nicely-suited woman can be when the fire between her legs gets going.

"Yes," I said once more, "*now*," and they didn't make me wait any longer. Both sets of lips returned to my neck, hard and firm and soft and sensuous; Walter's broad palm covered one breast, Mulder's arm snaked around my ribs so those long fingers of his could twine around my nipple. In about four seconds I was moaning continuously, kept moaning when the wandering pairs of lips ran into one another and left my neck to get to know one another better. The knowing hands stayed on my tits and were joined by others squeezing my bottom, while right beside me, two exquisitely desirable men were kissing one another as passionately as they'd just been kissing me. God, I was so wet already; I felt like a split fruit spilling its juice all over the counter. I couldn't take my eyes off my lovers, couldn't stop watching Mulder's delicious mouth twist and yield under Walter's. Walter sucked Mulder's lower lip into his mouth, oh, I was painfully close to orgasm--

I must have wriggled more, made a sound, something, because their kiss broke off. Walter looked down at me with mingled lust and amusement. "Aren't we forgetting something here, Fox?"

"Only for a moment. Let's get comfortable, shall we?" The two of them settled me on my back between them and stretched out on their sides. This was just too good to be true--a hand on each breast, a hard cock against each thigh, two pairs of laughing, lustful eyes looking into mine, moss agate and oak-brown. Mulder looked like himself again, and Walter looked like the lover I'd met in New York, relaxed, considerate, passionate. This was going to be fun.

End part 1

 

* * *

 

I Don't Remember How It Happened  
by Merri-Todd Webster <>  
Part 2

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong not to me but to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. But you probably knew that already.  
This story is NC-17 and contains various combinations of m/f, m/m, m/f/m, and m/m/m sex. The first two parts are very het, but they're just the beginning of the story. If you have a problem with any of the above, or if you're not supposed to be here, just tiptoe away quietly and I won't tell anyone I saw you, okay?

* * *

*****

Walter leaned over and kissed Scully, a slow, wet kiss with no hurry in it. Then she turned to me, lips parted, moist, inviting; obviously, she wanted me to kiss her, so I did. And tasted Walter as well as Dana. God. When the kiss ended, I noticed I was kneading her breast gently, and Walter was doing the same for the other one. Nice. Fascinating.

I bent down and took the nipple nearest me into my mouth. Have I mentioned how sweet Scully's skin tastes? She could be covered all over with sugar, fine white powdered sugar, and then her freckles would be cinnamon.... I raised my head just a little and yes, Walter was sucking on the other nipple. Scully was making delightful little whimpering sounds and moving her hips up and down, up and down. Wouldn't you know, my hand ran into Walter's as I reached for her pussy.

We both raised our heads and grinned at each other. This was fun. Walter held up one finger and then touched Scully with it, dramatically; I added one finger of my own, and we went to work, exploring and diving in the hot wet pool between her legs while using our tongues creatively on those adorable rose nipples.

Scully arched up beneath us, writhed elegantly, and started making that noise, that throaty chesty yowly growly orgasm noise that makes me want to come all over her face. God! Her hand was pushing down between her thigh and my belly, trying to get a grip on my cock, and she was still coming. I've noticed that if you keep touching her the way she likes, she'll keep coming until you stop. Her slim fingers curled around me, and I wasn't about to stop.

Walter tapped me. His fingers were wet with Scully, and on impulse I grabbed his hand and started licking them, tasting him and her both in a new way. Mmm, yummy. Walter groaned in a helpless sort of way and let me finish. I bit the ball of his thumb, and he slid down the bed, coaxing Dana's thighs further apart--not that she needed much coaxing. He looked at me meaningfully, then slipped one finger into her. I nodded and ran my finger along her folds and back to her clit, to make those little tight circles she loves.

*****

Mulder was taking my cues brilliantly. And I'd almost exploded when he licked Scully's wetness off my fingers. What he can do with his tongue is probably illegal, but only in some states, and if it's not a federal offense, I don't have to worry about it....

I got two fingers in her, and Mulder was working on her clit. From the way Dana was thrusting against my hand, I knew she wanted more, she wanted it hard, but I felt odd about doing that in front of Mulder. I didn't know why. She was coming in short, sharp little bursts, gasping now as her muscles clenched around my hand, her head tossing from side to side. "Walter, please," she said brokenly. I changed my rhythm, and Mulder took away his hand, and I gave it to her, pounding my curled fist against her cunt, filling her up and hitting her clit. I watched her, her face scrunching up with the unbearable pleasure; I watched him, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable lust and arousal; I watched my hand, churning into those pretty red curls, shaking her whole body with the force of my arm. I didn't stop fucking Dana until her voice broke on a scream and her buttocks hit the bed.

She panted with an unreadable face for a moment, then looked at us both with shining eyes. Her lips curled into a smile. "More," she purred. Laughing, I lay back beside her while Mulder moved into position between her thighs.

*****

I couldn't believe how aroused I was. I'd just been making love with Mulder a little while ago, and he hadn't stinted me; he'd been sweet and generous and I'd had lots of orgasms, lots of pleasures. But I felt like I hadn't gotten any in weeks, no, months. Maybe it was because I'd gone for over two years with no sexual pleasure that didn't come from my own initiative and my trusty vibrator. I'd done my best to bury myself in my work and forget this side of myself, and abduction and cancer and all the rest had only made it easier for me. Now all this energy was boiling to the surface, bubbling over, brought by the way they looked at me, touched me, made love to me.

Mulder is really, really good at eating pussy. There is just no other way to say this. Those fabulous lips were locked around my clit again, and I was thinking distractedly of how they would look wrapped around Walter's cock and working my way at a comfortable pace to a nice warm climax--and then Walter got hold of my nipples, fingers and lips and tongue, and I exploded with another uncharacteristic high-pitched scream. One tongue kept swirling around my nipple, and another kept stroking over and over my pussy, from the point of the triangle to the base, and I started to think I was going to throw my back out from moving in response. <Am I *never* going to stop coming?>

Something changed. It took me a moment to figure out that they were holding me down. They weren't grasping me too tightly, and I could still move, but not so wildly. It was just... more intense. *Much* more intense. I couldn't get away from the sensations that built up in me, couldn't escape the almost-painful peaks that pleasure can hit. For the first time, I had an inkling of understanding of what Mulder got from the ritual scenarios, and it was fascinating rather than frightening.

I think I may have passed out for a few moments. I opened my eyes, and the two of them were leaning over me looking vaguely worried. I smiled reassuringly, and they smiled back. "What's next?" Mulder asked cheerfully.

I looped my arm around his neck and brought him down for a kiss. "Mmm, I taste awfully good on you."

"Does he?" Walter asked. He caught Mulder's chin in his hand, and I watched avidly as Walter not only kissed Mulder but licked gently around his mouth, tasting me on his skin. Mulder's eyes seemed to roll back in his head, and watching this pretty much wiped out the cumulative effects of the orgasms I'd had so far. I was freshly ready for more.

"I have an idea," I said. "If you two are comfortable with it."

They both looked at me with large eyes.

I pointed to Walter. "I want you to fuck me." I pointed to Mulder. "Then I want you to fuck him." I pointed back to Walter.

Both of them gulped. "Uh, Scully, uh, I don't think I'm up for it," Mulder said.

I slid my hand up and down his erection, which twitched obligingly. "You feel pretty up to me," I observed.

"Mulder, it's okay," Walter said. He sounded remarkably calm. "If you want to fuck me, I'd be happy to take you. If you don't, right now, that's okay, too. But if we *are* going to be lovers like this--all three of us--there are going to be times when one of us just watches."

"And it isn't always going to be you," I added.

Whatever else I might have said to Mulder's gold-eyed, frightened look was cut off by Walter's scooping me up and kissing me until I turned blue. "Prepare to be fucked senseless," he growled against my neck.

"Oh, believe me, I am."

*****

For about two minutes--no, less than that--I didn't believe they were really going to do it right in front of me. My doubts rapidly evaporated, however, when Walter lowered himself over Scully and she wrapped her legs eagerly around his waist. Walter groaned her name, Dana, as he sank into her, and the sweetest smile broke over her face. Well, I could understand that; I knew how it felt to be filled by that fantastic cock.

I propped myself up on my elbow and watched. God knows I've wasted enough of my life watching porn videos, so maybe it's no surprise that jealousy would take second place to curiosity and I'd get off on watching my two gorgeous lovers fuck just inches away from me. It certainly isn't much like watching porn--real life is actually much more stimulating. Why didn't I think of this years ago?

Scully was making "mmm, mmm" noises while Walter moved in and out of her at a fairly easy pace. I could see her face over his shoulder, smiling beatifically, but his face was nestled against her shoulder. Even his back is an anatomy textbook, perfectly muscled; I watched his ass clench and unclench, the way the shadows moved on his thighs, and imagined him looking the same way while he was fucking me. Did I want to fuck him? In front of Scully? I was working on my cock, matching my pace to theirs.

I was surprised when they stopped. Walter pulled out and rolled over on his back, tugging at Scully's arm. She straddled his massive thighs and lowered herself smoothly onto him. I found myself swallowing hard at the sight of that massive length, glistening wet, disappearing into her fragile body. But the expression on Scully's face was always the same. St. Teresa of Avila probably had the same expression when the angel pierced her heart with a flaming golden arrow. I realized how little I was able to watch Scully's reactions when I was the one making love to her, and what a great show I'd been missing. I usually went by a lover's sounds rather than facial expressions. Watching the two of them gave me ideas about how to please them.

Scully was moaning softly as she rocked on Walter, and he was lifting his hips as she went back and forth. Her hand went to her clit, and her voice sharpened, lifted. Walter and I both started to reach for her, and he nodded at me. I sat up, cupped her bottom in one hand, and slipped my fingers between the two of them. Walter started kneading her breasts.

She threw her head back and moved wildly, shoving herself down against my hand and Walter's cock, and went through a string of orgasms that peaked and then faded, like an emergency siren. She was in no shape to resist when Walter lifted her off of him and laid her on her back again, but suddenly she opened her eyes and stopped both of us with a hot blue stare.

"Mulder," she rasped. "You--inside me--Walter--inside Mulder--"

O Jesus. Could I do that and survive, or wouldn't it just burn out my cerebral cortex? This woman has an incredibly inventive mind, and she doesn't even watch porn. Maybe those erotica collections help, or something she finds on the Internet. I didn't have time to hesitate, though, because Walter was crushing me against his chest and kissing me hard enough to bite, so maybe this was a good idea, after all.

*****

Dana Scully, sex fiend. Who would have guessed it? I grabbed Mulder and kissed him hard enough to burn up any resistance, hard enough to make him moan and wriggle and reach for my cock. "On your side," I said to Dana. She moved over to the edge of the bed and pulled Mulder after her, lying half on her side, half on her back. Mulder groaned helplessly and sort of fell into her arms, sliding into her pussy without any trouble at all. I fumbled around for the lubricant and a condom, growling with impatience. I was damned close to coming, after all, but I didn't want to disappoint Dana.

Mulder moaned as I found his asshole, Scully moaned as he pressed into her, and I moaned just on general principles. I got him ready as fast as possible and none too gently, but he didn't complain; by that point he needed me in him as much as I needed to fuck him, her, whatever. Joining our three separate bodies into one just seemed like the only possible thing to do at the moment.

He was so much tighter than Scully that I almost lost it going into him. He wailed, a completely lost, surrendered noise, holding nothing back, and the wail was echoed by Scully's deep sigh. When I was all the way in him, I wrapped my arms around both of them, and Scully's arms came over mine. "We've got you now, Fox," I whispered, and kissed him. "We've got you now. You're safe."

*****

It was, without a doubt, the most incredible sexual experience of my life. It maybe was the only thing that could have broken the spell I was under, the hold Krycek had over me. At least, for the moment. To be between these two people that I needed, wanted, loved; to be held; to be taken, to be accepted. Scully, my wonderful brave sweet Scully, brilliant, beautiful Dana Katherine Scully, and Walter Skinner, a man so strong and centered and stable he makes me feel like even more of a lunatic than I know I am--for them to accept me, want me in their bodies, in their lives, meant more to me than I can explain.

I was shaking all over with emotion, starting to cry again, but sensation overwhelmed emotion. When Walter thrust into me, I was pushed into Scully, and Scully pushed back, receiving and responding. I was right at the edge of how much the mind can process, being enclosed and penetrated at the same time, fucking and being fucked. Slow rocking back and forth, the sounds of our breathing twining together into a complicated rhythm. The smell of him, earthy, sweaty, spicy, strong, and of her, wet, grassy, tangy, lightly perfumed. The smell of myself mixing with the other two smells in an incredible stew. The tension coiling tighter in my gut than it ever had before, sweeter, more desperate, more promising. The heat rising, flowing up the spinal column like kundalini. The sounds building, like a film score, louder, more excited, grunting panting groaning growling begging please please please--

Walter losing control, letting go, ramming into me, his face dug into my back, and Scully arching backward, her breasts in my face, her pelvis glued to mine, both of them coming around me, and as both waves crashed over me I went under, silently, into velvet darkness, emptying myself more completely than I thought I could, and wondering vaguely if I'd ever be filled again.

*********

We stayed at the cabin for a week. After our threesome, Mulder stopped trying to get away at night. I think at some point he talked further to Walter about what had happened between him and Krycek. I still hoped he would, sometime, talk to me about it. We didn't make love as a trio again, but I made love with both of them more than once and went for a long drive one day and a long walk another day to give them the chance to be together. Judging by the way they were acting when I got back, they took advantage of the opportunity.

When we went back to work, we were plunged at once into the worst serial killer case I'd ever seen. We barely had time to unpack and do laundry before we were flying out to Portland, Oregon to consult on the "Starbuck's Killer" case. Trust the media to insult the deaths of, at that point, four elderly women by giving their murderer a cute name.

Four elderly women. Then three more in one week. We never slept. All the bodies were left at or near Starbuck's coffee shops, hence the name. We drank gallons of coffee to keep going and tried not to think about the connection. I went over and over these horribly mutilated bodies, looking for forensic evidence. Women in their seventies and eighties, tied up, tortured, raped, mutilated. I'd go in the bathroom, retch up four hours' worth of coffee and a muffin, then go back to the autopsy table.

Mulder was a fiend. As committed as I'd become to uncovering the conspiracy that shadowed Mulder's life, and now mine, when I saw him in action as a profiler, working at full stretch, it was hard not to feel he'd been wasting his talents on the X-Files. He was merciless, deflecting everything with that cool wit. There were times he got into the killer's head so completely, you could almost see his looks change, as if he were some kind of shapeshifter morphing into the murderer before your very eyes. I was glad he stayed away from me.

Skinner, thank God, didn't. He was grim and silent most of the time, helping to coordinate manpower, taking his turn on stakeouts, swilling flavored coffee with the rest of us, but he slept with me. We had three rooms in a row, my room between theirs. He'd come in and we'd make love without saying a word. He veered between the extremes of lust and sweetness; some nights he'd leave bruises on me, leave my cervix aching from the pounding, and the next he'd cry over the bruises, kiss me everywhere, lick my sore flesh tenderly until I dissolved in pleasure, then let me stroke him or suck him off. I didn't care. I just wanted him with me. I didn't care how or if he fucked me as long as I could curl up on his chest and sleep in his arms, wake up with him nearby.

It went on for weeks. I can't remember how long. Sleep deprivation got to seem normal. Over and over I heard Walter say, "God damn it! That should have worked! We should have had him!" They did everything by the book, and it didn't help. Mulder got increasingly manic. The three of us indulged in dinner together one evening, and I swear I didn't recognize him. It was like being with someone who looks exactly like your friend, your lover, but acts completely different--an identical twin separated at birth. We were up to fourteen dead. Mulder made gruesome jokes about the victims and abused the waitress. Walter took off his glasses and looked at me, a long, slow look. I nodded. I'd sleep alone tonight, for Mulder's sake.

*****

I came into his room through the connecting door. He was sitting on the bed, still fully clothed. I'd taken my coat and jacket off on my way through my room. I said his name, and he looked at me with dull brown eyes. I remembered them being that color before--when Scully was dying. They looked like he was dying.

"You want some company, Fox?"

He stuck out his lip. "No."

"You need it, Mulder. You need me."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I need to solve this case. I need to think."

"You're past thinking, Mulder. You can't solve this case because you're too deep in it. You can't haul people outta the shit when you're in it up to the eyebrows yourself."

"I can do it."

"I know you can. But you need to ease up on yourself. You need to--"

"Don't tell me what I need!" Mulder jumped to his feet, swinging a punch against empty air. "I don't need anything when somebody's grandmother might be in the dumpster tomorrow. I *can't* need anything!"

"Fuck this." I grabbed him by the labels and hauled him against the door. "You need me, Mulder." I leaned in until my glasses were nearly touching his forehead. "You need what I can give you. And you're gonna get it."

I kissed him, brutally. He struggled, but I pinned his shoulders with mine and forced his lips open, rubbed my tongue over his. He wasn't the only one this case was driving crazy. I was going berserk--my blood was heating up with a mix of arousal and anger and frustration. I hadn't felt like this since 'Nam. It felt dangerous. It felt great.

Mulder was still trying to push me off. Idiot. I grabbed his hands and pinned them over his head and ground my hips into his. He was as hard as I was, and when I pulled back, those muddy brown eyes had turned to jade. "Tell me you don't want this, Mulder. Tell me you don't want my cock. Tell you don't want to come all over my hand."

His chest was heaving. "I--I--" He lunged forward, trying to find my mouth again, but without even thinking about it, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him to his knees.

"Take it out and suck it."

He didn't hesitate. I watched his hands tremble as he undid my belt, unbuttoned the waist, pulled down the zipper. I rocked forward on the balls of my feet.

"Hurry up, boy."

Part of me was saying <What are you doing why did you call him that are you nuts Walter Sergei old man> and part of me was saying <I need it he wants it I need it he needs it now *now*>. And Mulder yanked down my slacks and my briefs and sucked me down his throat like I was his first and only meal of the day.

God yes. That hot, slick mouth and throat taking me in, those elastic lips wrapped around me, nibbling at me even while his tongue was strumming the nerves on the underside-- I wound my fingers into his hair, tight. "I said suck it."

He sucked.

*****

I sucked feverishly on Walter's huge cock. He was tangy with sweat and I was sweating rivers. Christ, I was sucking him off and I was still fully dressed. I still had my coat on. I opened up and let him further down my throat. He's so damn big, I don't know how I take him in the ass, or how Scully takes all of him in, but there's no way I can take all of him in my mouth. He seemed inclined to disagree, though. His fingers were twisting in my hair, nearly hard enough to hurt, it *did* hurt, and he kept rocking forward and shoving in just a little bit more of that meat, until I started to gag--

He pulled back so abruptly I went backward onto my ass. I looked up in surprise and watched him loosen his tie with a savage jerk, kick his shoes aside. He looked down at me and showed his teeth in something that definitely wasn't a smile.

"Crawl over to the bed and lie down."

*Crawl*? What the fuck-- I started to get up and he knocked me down. Skinner hit me. Not even a punch, just a quick cuff, like you might give your toddler if he started to run out in traffic. It knocked me on my ass again with no trouble at all.

"I said *crawl*, boy."

I crawled. I didn't know where this was coming from, but it was getting me hotter than I could stand. I couldn't think about anything else, hearing him talk like that--not the women already dead, not the ones who might still die, not the killer sitting somewhere laughing to himself over a can of really cheap beer. I guess that was the idea. And of course I did know where this was coming from--from the frustration that had been on the boil for weeks. Yeah, we both needed this.

*****

I was kind of disgusted with myself. I really enjoyed the sight of my rogue agent, the FBI's resident spook, still wearing polished shoes and trenchcoat and suit, crawling across the ugly shag carpet toward the bed. At least I could get him to obey me this way.

He climbed onto the bed and spread out. I pulled my briefs back up and took everything else off.

"I'm going to undress you, Agent Mulder, and you're going to let me. Don't move. Just let me." I started with his shoes and worked my way up. Mulder lay there like overcooked noodles. He might have been asleep except for his rapid breathing and the way his eyes flickered, like a frightened sparrow's. I got everything off of him and then just stared at him, naked, vulnerable.

"Walter--"

"Shut up."

I was going to have to tie him up. I had nothing else, so I used his tie and mine. I sat down on the bed and got his left hand so fast he didn't have time to resist, but I had to get up and go around the other side to get his right hand, He pulled away, yanking at the headboard with the hand that was already tied. I grabbed him again and locked his thumb in a neat little maneuver I learned from a Vietnamese guy.

"Fight me and this hold'll snap your thumb off, Mulder."

"Walter, don't do this."

"Why not?" I released the hold and went on with tying his hand. "We both want it. Need it."

"No. Not like this."

"Isn't this what you got from Krycek? Isn't this why you didn't fight him?" I leaned down and spoke directly into his ear. "You might have been able to fight him off, Agent Mulder, but you can't fight me."

"Walter, please. Please don't."

"Begging isn't going to stop me."

The lube and the condoms were in the bedside drawer like I'd figured. My cock was twitching, primed by his mouth, and I wanted to fuck him like I'd never wanted to before. I started to move his legs apart, and he fought me again, kicking. His leg came up into my crotch, jostled my balls just hard enough to hurt, and I went ballistic. Something exploded behind my eyes like a mortar, and all the barriers went away, the walls I'd erected between myself and the world, between other people and my rage. I'd hit Sharon once and never forgiven myself. She didn't forgive me, either. I wouldn't expect her to. It was unconscionable. I'd sworn I'd never let out that side of myself again, no matter what it cost, but dammit, Mulder could get past all my defenses, even those. He fought me, and I turned into a fighter who had to win.

I hit him again, hard enough to make him see stars. While he was out of it, I had time to untie one hand and roll him over and re-tie both hands close together, with him on his stomach. I moved as quickly and efficiently as if he were an enemy soldier I had to subdue. Then I got my belt out of my slacks and brought it down hard on Mulder's thighs with no finesse and no consideration. The leather cracked against his skin, and Mulder went limp. He took a deep breath, let it out, and slowly moved his legs apart.

I said, "Yes."

*****

I don't know why I fought. Maybe it was because I'd gotten used to Walter's tenderness. He could be incredibly tender. I craved that. I'd wanted a taste of what made Scully glow after she'd been with him, and I had discovered it wasn't just a big dick and a lot of juicy orgasms. He was a good lover, not a master torturer. Waking up in bed with him was as satisfying in its own way as the sex.

Now everything had come to a head--the frustrations of the case, the guilt over my thing with Krycek, the agony of trying to think like the soulless bastard who got his jollies torturing grandmothers. Now he was acting like Krycek, and it hurt, it really hurt. It hurt to have him call me "boy" after I'd lain in his arms and heard him whisper my name, the name I don't even let Scully call me. I was in the hands of an inexperienced dominant with very big hands, very strong muscles, and a very big cock.

He used his belt on me. He had no finesse, like Krycek. Krycek turns hurting you into an art form, and he's proud of it, too. Walter just swung with all the strength he had, which is considerable. In every stroke I felt his anger and my anger, Scully's absence from the room and the memory of what I'd had with Alex. He covered my shoulders, my back, my ass, my thighs. I was going to have marks worse than before. I cried and begged him to stop, but at the same time, I took it. Yeah, it hurt like hell, but it wasn't like I hadn't fantasized about this hundreds of times. It wasn't like it didn't turn me on.

I can't explain what I felt. I only know my cock got harder and harder, and at some point I realized my begging him to stop had turned into saying "yes" every time the belt landed on my body.

I heard what I thought was the belt hitting the wall and sliding to the floor. I pried my eyes open and saw Walter skinnying out of his briefs. His cock looked bigger than ever, dark red and practically dripping. This time when he made to kneel over my legs, I just opened them wider. "Good boy." A heavy hand ran down my sweaty back and over my burning ass.

"You know what's going to happen now, Mulder?"

"I think so, sir," I mumbled.

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me, sir."

"That's right." Pat on my ass. "Right here."

I moaned uncontrollably as one thick finger slid smooth and cool into my ass, all the way in. God, after all that, I was so damned ready. Mulder the slut.

"You want it, don't you, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"Good boy." Walter's voice was almost his office voice, but not quite. There was an edge of mockery I didn't hear in the office, no matter how wacky the case was. My throat closed up, I wanted to sob and couldn't, I wanted to be fucked and to scream in protest.

He was agonizingly thorough, working me up to three fingers rubbing my prostate and enough lube to accomodate a guided missile. I was howling into the pillow, my skin still on fire from the beating, begging him inarticulately to give me what I needed. Then he dragged me up onto my knees and slammed it home in one well-aimed thrust. I screamed so loud it felt like my throat was being ripped out.

Walter held my ass and pumped me mercilessly for a long time. It was like getting fucked by a jackhammer. I was starting to believe this was some android clone of my boss and lover, sent to seduce me so They could get pictures to discredit us, when he reached under me and grabbed my cock. Two fast strokes, and I came with another voice-destroying scream, my ass bearing down so hard on his cock I thought I was going to rip it off and pull it all the way in. Shouting, Walter exploded inside me, bucking even harder than before, it hurt but it hurt good, and his climax went on nearly as long as the fucking had, until we both collapsed, gasping.

A minute passed, and I realized Walter was crying.

*****

It hit me, all of a sudden, what I'd done. I'd come here for *him*, and I'd treated him like a slut, a whore you don't even have to pay. It started with a sob and I couldn't stop it. Fox was saying my name and then he was crying, too. It took all the strength I had to pull out, untie him, take him in my arms. What a sight that must have been--two male federal agents crying in one another's arms, both of them saying, "It's all right, it's gonna be all right," like a mother soothing her child over a skinned knee.

When we finally subsided, I ran my hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He kissed me. "I'm a pervert, I liked it. Just give me some warning next time. You know, agree on a safeword and some way to begin and end the scene."

"It was--"

"--everything. I know. Really."

He gave me another kiss, and I caught his mouth and made this one long and sweet. "You're gonna catch him, Fox. You're gonna catch the grandmother-stalking piece of shit."

He sighed. "Yeah. If I don't turn into him, first."

*****

We caught the killer two days later. If I'd thought Mulder was brilliant before, he was superhuman after spending that night with Walter. I'd heard the noises, couldn't help imagining what they meant, but I just tried to sleep, and I didn't ask any questions later. Walter came to me early in the morning, before I even got out of bed, bent over me and kissed me and didn't say anything.

Fifteen deaths, total. Weeks that had felt like years. But the forensic evidence was indisputable, though of course the bastard's lawyer would dispute it. I was glad all the days I'd put in cutting and retching counted for something. I stood next to Mulder as he looked at the killer--a little older than us, overweight, unshaven, slovenly, an Eddie Van Blundht gone to seed. With hazel eyes that were frighteningly like my lover's. They looked at each other, the killer smiled, and Mulder shrugged. Then he turned away, and so did I, and Walter put his hands on both of our shoulders and squeezed. "Well done," was all he said. We went back to our hotel rooms, packed, and flew home.

*********

Once we got back to DC, Mulder actually took a few days off, without being threatened, and let us know he was going to sleep through them. I went grocery shopping as soon as I got home, bought tons of food, including way too much ice cream, and left a care package in his kitchen. When I got home with the rest of the groceries, I called Walter.

"I'll make dinner for both of us if you don't mind watching me do laundry."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

I laughed out loud when Walter Skinner showed up at my door with a large duffel bag that, to be perfectly honest, smelled like sweaty male feet. He handed me a blue plastic bag containing two bottles of wine, some soda, and another half gallon of ice cream, and scratched his head, looking embarassed. "I really wanted to see you, and I really need to wash these clothes, so I thought maybe...."

"It's okay, Walter, it's fine. We can put our things in together."

He started on the laundry while I started on dinner. I was stuffing lemon and rosemary into the body cavity of the chicken when it hit me that I was letting a lover wash my underwear. I hadn't done that since college, and it felt kind of funny, but good funny. I got the chicken in the oven, washed my hands, and turned around into a broad blue-shirted chest and strong arms that folded me in. Mmm, that felt good. I really needed a hug.

"Can you come sit down?" he mumbled against my hair.

I turned my face from side to side, breathing him in. "I need to get the side dish going first."

"You can be the side dish." If you haven't heard it, you'd never believe Walter Skinner can talk so softly, so seductively. I giggled.

"You don't want potatoes au gratin with your roast chicken?"

He let me go with a kiss on my forehead. "Well, I wouldn't want to miss out on that."

Once I had the potato casserole in the oven with the chicken, we sat down on the couch together. Walter got me to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around me. We didn't say anything for a while. It was comforting to sit there in his arms, with no need to talk, while the apartment filled with the smells of the food cooking. It felt so--normal.

"Do you think Mulder's all right?" I said finally.

Walter sighed. "He will be."

I sighed, too. "I kind of wish he was here with us now... and I kind of don't."

"I know what you mean." Walter shifted slightly, got me centered better over his thighs.

"He just needs so much... from both of us...." My voice trailed off. I wasn't sure what I was trying to say. I didn't want to articulate it.

"I know what you mean," Walter said again. He kissed the top of my head. "He'll be all right. And so will we."

*****

He gave me a key once, a spare. I never gave it back. I wonder if he remembers that he did that, that I can get to him any time. He hasn't changed the lock.

I pushed against something, opening his door. It turned out to be his trench coat. I used to have one of those. They don't give them out with the FBI badge, but they might as well. A few feet away, I saw his shoes, then his pants, the tie off to the right as if he'd thrown it, the crumpled sage-green shirt, and the jacket, and finally the socks, which smelled really awful, like they'd been worn for a week. At the end of the trail was Mulder, asleep on the couch as always, wearing a t-shirt and boxers.

I walked silently through the dark, musty apartment. Passing the fish tank, I tossed in some food. I could almost hear the fish yelling, "Thank you!" Poor little bastards. I wondered how many fish he'd been through since he first let me into his home. Then I stumbled over something and thought I was done for, but Mulder didn't move. Didn't even snore. The thing I'd stumbled over turned out to be his suitcase.

I went over to the couch, squatted down, and looked at him. He must have just gotten back from that serial killer case in Portland. How could a man shrewd enough and crazy enough to profile serial killers not see right through me? But he never did. He was obviously way, way under; his eyelids weren't moving, his mouth was slightly open, one hand was dragging on the floor. His gun and holster lay on the coffee table. He probably wouldn't wake up before dying if I shot him.

He'd probably wake up and shoot me if I kissed him.

I got up and went into the kitchen. There was a brown paper bag on the counter with a note that said, "Eat the salad, Mulder." It was signed "D--." I unloaded the bag, threw out the salad, which had gone bad, ate a pear, which was very ripe, and put the rest of the food away. His fridge was pretty much empty except for what Scully had left.

Then I went back to that suitcase I'd tripped over. I opened it up and the smell of unwashed clothes hit me like a punch in the face. The smell of Mulder, raw and unprocessed. I scooped up a shirt and pressed my face to it. The man smells better than anybody I know. Even dirty and sweaty, he could be wearing some really expensive men's cologne, and it's all him. <Come on, Alex, next thing you know, you'll be jacking off in his underwear.> <Wouldn't be the first time.> Grinning like an idiot, I went into the bathroom and got the laundry basket. Two or three loads would give him the basics, and since the laundry room was in the basement, I could stay down there and take no chances of disturbing him. Scully might buy him some groceries, but she'd never do his laundry.

*****

I don't know how long I slept. I woke up stiff all over, hungry and thirsty, and having to pee so bad I could hardly walk. I stumbled into the bathroom and stood there for what felt like an hour. I must have pissed a gallon. Then I headed into the kitchen, hoping I still had some bottled water in the fridge. I yanked open the door and stood there blinking into the light of the refrigerator bulb. Where did all this food come from? I swigged some bottled water and ate a pear that was nearly overripe, but delicious. Scully must have bought all this and left it here while I was asleep, or maybe Walter did, or both of them. 

My brain just refused to cope with the issues when I went into the bedroom and saw the clean clothes stacked on the dresser, my ties coiled neatly on top of them. I knew I'd worn some of those ties to Portland, and that pair of Daffy Duck socks, and those khaki pants.... Who the hell had done my laundry? Scully sure as hell wouldn't. Walter? But I'd told both of them I'd be out of it for a few days. I always sleep it off after a case like the last one. Get it out of my system in dreams. I thought I'd made it clear I didn't expect them to check up on me; they could spend time with each other, it was okay....

It wasn't until after I'd eaten some canned ravioli, put all the clothes away, had another short nap, and polished off a pizza loaded with peppers and anchovies that I thought of Krycek, and the key I'd once given him. And went and threw it all up.

I crashed on the couch again with one of my favorite videos on, hoping it would distract me, but it didn't. All I could think about was that he could get to me, any time, he'd been able to get to me any time for years. Why hadn't I changed the damn lock? And why wasn't I going to? I had two lovers now that I'd really cared about, not to mention lusted after, for way too long. Why was I still vulnerable to the rat bastard? Why did he keep coming back to me? Couldn't he find himself another submissive?

I tried really hard to concentrate on the movie, but for the first time I noticed that the cast consisted of a redhead, and two dark-haired guys, and an older guy with a really great body....

*****

Mulder came back to work. Life went on. They went out on cases and stayed in doing paperwork. I gritted my teeth every time they went out and then took it out by chewing them out over the paperwork when they got back. Maybe the Bureau is right in forbidding fraternization. It sure as hell didn't do anything for my blood pressure to think about them being in danger. <Skinner,> I'd say to myself, <you are certifiably insane to be having a relationship with not one, but two of your agents, and one of them the biggest pain in the ass the Bureau's ever seen.> And then I'd have dinner at Scully's with the two of them, wake up the next morning with one on each shoulder, feeling damn good after damn little sleep, and know that I'd keep on being certifiable.

About two weeks later, Easter rolled around, and Scully went home to be with her family, leaving the Wednesday night before. Mulder came over to my place, bringing beer and a bag with his things. I stuck the beer in the fridge--Sam Adams and Guinness, good choices--then turned around and grabbed him for a nice thorough grope and kiss. When I let him go, he sighed gratifyingly. "I am not letting you out of my sight for the next few days," I informed him.

His eyes opened, and one corner of his mouth lifted. "You're not?"

"No way."

The other corner of his mouth joined the first in a shy smile. "Okay."

We ate pizza, drank beer, and watched a ball game. Basketball, I guess. Not exactly your stereotypical evening at home for two male lovers, but God, it was a relief not to talk. Just to sit around and watch a game. Eat pizza so loaded with toppings most women would run screaming at the sight of it, and Dana Scully would make some tiny movement with her lips that said it all. Drink beer. And belch a lot. Mulder's good at that.

He helped me carry the empty bottles into the kitchen. He stopped to wash his hands at the sink, and when he turned around, I was right there, my hips and thighs pinning his. Time to kiss him again and taste all those flavors in his mouth. My fingers playing in his hair and his tongue teasing mine with onions, pepperoni, anchovies, three kinds of peppers. He gripped my ass and squeezed. "Jesus, Walter, your ass is like a rock. How do you do it?"

"I'll show you the routine in the morning. Right now, I've got another form of exercise in mind."

Mulder was playful that night in a way he hadn't been for too long. He led the way into the bedroom and threw himself onto the bed. Smiling up at me in that seductive way he has, he started unbuttoning his shirt. I jumped on top of him, and we just rolled back and forth on the bed, kissing, laughing, trying to undress each other without getting up. Somehow we succeeded.

I was naked, and I had a naked Mulder under me, his cock between my thighs, and was eating his lips like I hadn't just eaten slightly more than half of a very large pizza. He was writhing beautifully and playing with my ass, which was fine with me. I tore my mouth away, bit his earlobe, and growled, "I want you to fuck me."

"You fuck me first," he panted.

"Not this time." I squirmed toward the foot of the bed so I could work on his nipples. "I want it bad, Mulder."

He thrust his chest against my mouth. "Not as bad as I do."

I raised my head and scowled at him. "Christ, Mulder, don't you believe I can want you to fuck me?" He didn't answer. "I guess not. Damn you."

I went back to torturing those cute brown nipples. He went back to squirming and rubbing his cock on my stomach. Presently I slithered down further.

"I want to do this, too," I said matter-of-factly, and went down on him with a vengeance.

*****

Jesus Mary and Joseph! I can't take all of Walter's cock in my mouth, but he can sure as hell take all of mine. My ass came off the bed and then landed like a stone. "Walter--" Probably for the first time, I let my hands rest on his head and explore the bare crown and the thin smooth fringe of dark hair. He ignored the occasional push I gave him and deep-throated me in a slow but steady rhythm that made me squirm, swear, beg, and finally moan, beyond words. I still couldn't quite wrap my mind around the fact that Walter would do this, would suck me off, would want me to fuck him, that he didn't always want me to be the bottom, the receptacle for his pleasure. But my hands told me, yes, this is Walter Skinner, your boss, the meanest AD in the Bureau, giving you a truly outstanding blowjob with the understanding that you will use the resulting erection to fuck him senseless. Incredible, but delightful.

He let go of me, with one last slow suck that made a popping noise, and rolled off of me. I told my disbelieving mind to shut up and got the lubricant out of the drawer.

Walter was lying on his side, his cock valiantly parallel to the surface of the bed. "How do you want to do this?" I asked, hoping talking about it wouldn't make me ejaculate prematurely.

"I'm open to a number of possibilities. What do *you* want to do?" He smiled.

I closed my eyes and opened them again. "Would you mind if we--I mean, would you mind--" I was really afraid he'd say no.

Walter sighed. "Unless it involves hanging from a chandelier, Mulder, I'm game. And I don't have any chandeliers. I hate banging my head on them."

"Would you get on your hands and knees?"

He didn't even bother to say yes. He just did it. Sweet Jesus. Walter Skinner with his ass in the air for me. This cannot be happening.

"What are you waiting for?" he growled.

I wet my fingers good on one hand and ran the other hand down the slope of his back to his ass to spread him open. He made a soft noise that was smothered by his arm. I brushed a gooey finger across the tight opening, and Walter moved coaxingly, trying to get me *in* there. I noticed my hands were shaking. I wasn't sure if I could do this.

"Mulder, for God's sake--"

The need and the demand in his voice pushed me forward. I sank one finger into him and felt his answering moan vibrate around it. I took my time opening him up, leaning forward every once in a while to kiss his neck or his back, and by the time I had three fingers in him, he was moaning loudly and it was really going to my head, not to mention my cock. I felt dizzy.

I slicked on the condom and threw some extra lube on top of it. I heard him mutter, "Thank God, finally," as I got into position. As soon as I moved tentatively forward, Walter pushed back, and before I knew it, I was in up to the hilt. "Jesus!"

Walter chuckled. "He's not here right now, Fox, just you and me. So fuck me."

I couldn't get it out of my head that he was as responsive as Scully, that he liked it, apparently, as much as I do. I kept not believing it was happening even while I went in and out of him in long, slow strokes, savoring the close heat and the tightness and the little grunting sounds we were both making. When I felt myself speeding up, I reached around and took hold of his cock. "Oh, yeah," and he squirmed underneath me, you wouldn't think he could be so bendable, pushing back onto my cock and forward into my hand, again, and my mind finally gave up trying to figure this out and I just fucked him, both of us saying yeah, yes, that's it as I took him, inside and out, until his writhing, yelling, spurting climax brought on my own, and then I think I passed out.

*****

I lost it for a couple minutes, and I think Mulder must have, too. When I came back to myself, he was still lying on my back, breathing evenly. It felt pretty nice, until I started to get a cramp in my buttock. I tried to roll over, and that roused him enough to pull out and flop down beside me.

"You have a hard time fucking me, don't you?" I said after a little while.

"Uh-huh."

"How come?"

He sighed. "I dunno, Walter. 'Cause of Krycek, I guess."

"Do you have a hard time fucking Scully?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "No, of course not."

"So what's the difference?" I challenged him. "She wants it, I want it. Two willing partners."

Mulder blew out air between pursed lips, like a horse. "The difference is that you're a man, I guess. You're my boss. And the only sex I've had with a man before you has been with someone who wanted to dominate me. I could no more fuck Krycek than I could fuck you in the office with the door open and Kim watching."

I had to laugh at that image. The look on Kim's face...! I moved over closer to my lover and laid my hand on his chest. "Look, Mulder, don't you realize by now that AD Walter Skinner, the Bureau's resident son-of-a-bitch, is just an act? I intimidate people because I have to, because it gets the job done. And yeah, I occasionally enjoy it--when I get to out-macho some bastard who deserves it. But like I told you the first time we were together, I don't want to be your top or your master or whatever. Just your friend and your lover."

He kissed me, much too briefly. "Well, I hope that doesn't mean you don't want to fuck me tonight."

"It certainly does not." I propped myself on one elbow and fastened myself on him for a good long kiss.

*********

I haven't had a lot of male partners. If it weren't for all the times I went to whores to get laid in 'Nam--and they didn't deserve how much I hated them for letting me fuck them--I could say I haven't had a lot of female partners, either. Out of everyone I've ever had sex with, Mulder is the best kisser. Better than Scully on technique though not on feeling. After kissing him for about five minutes, I was well on my way to a second erection, and looking forward enormously to using it on him.

When I finally came up for air, the way he looked made me want to fuck him even more. Normally sleepy eyes so heavy they were just a green glow behind brown lashes. Mouth wet and swollen, and he was licking his lips, the bastard. Nipples stiff, chest heaving, and already fully hard again, the slit glistening. Ah, youth. Well, he could get harder faster and more often, but I stayed harder longer. And the smile on his face said he knew that and appreciated it.

I wrapped my fingers around his cock and pumped it gently while exploring his chest with my mouth. For some reason, I really get off on the texture of his body hair. It's fuzzy. I'm hairy, but not fuzzy; my body hair's much coarser. I stirred up all the hair on his pecs, circling his nipples but never getting too close, making him push up into my hand, making him whimper my name. <You could do this to me,> I thought, <if you'd let yourself. You could make me whimper.> But we'd talk about that another time.

I didn't even get to licking his nipples before he rolled over and went down on my cock. He was at my side, kneeling over me, while he sucked me, so I managed to get my fingers on him instead, flicking and tugging at them. I was really pleased when he carefully slipped two fingers into my ass and went for my prostate, licking me all up and down at the same time. "Oh *damn*, that's good, Fox." I ruffled his hair. "Fuck me harder--suck me--*God*--" He's so damn good at doing what he's asked, at least in bed. Why can't he be a little more like that at work?

I pushed him away, suddenly, onto his back, and got on top of him. He wriggled and squirmed and whimpered and begged while I tasted those cute nipples until I was satisfied. The whole length of him was wet in my hand when I knelt back. "Stay right there," I said. "I want you on your back."

*****

I groaned like I was dying when those big hard fingers went into me, but I'd been dying of anticipation already. It was fun sucking on Walter and fucking him with my fingers, but I needed that huge cock in me. *Now*. He took his time and made me writhe like a sackful of snakes, the son of a bitch. I was begging him, please, please, *please*, by the time he replaced his fingers with his cock.

"Oh, yeah!" I threw my head back and it rolled all the way down my spine, opening me more and pushing against him. I hooked my legs over his shoulders; he cupped my hips with both hands.

"You're so beautiful, Fox," he whispered. "You like being fucked... it's so good to fuck you, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't take it any more."

I couldn't say anything. I had him inside me; I was full. For just a few minutes, fucking or being fucked, with him or with Scully, I wasn't empty or alone. So good. It didn't last long, but it was worth it. I was moaning and heaving against him, and he took his time, started slow. He did it gentle and easy, and I wanted it hard and fast. My fingers were clenching and unclenching so hard I just about ripped up the sheets. Then he pulled out.

"What the fuck--?"

"C'm'ere--"

"Oh--"

"Is this good?"

"Oh, yeah...."

"Let me hold you...."

On my side, my back against his chest. Oh, that's nice. His arms around me, holding me so close I can hardly move, I can only take his thrusting, his pace. His lips on the back of my neck, re-discovering all the hot spots I'd never known were there, until he kissed them. I was shuddering in his grasp and wondering if maybe I could be having an orgasm without ejaculating.

"Oh God, Walter--"

"Lie on your stomach. --Is this too much?"

"No. No. Perfect."

On my stomach, flat on my stomach with him on my back. More lube first, insistent strokes across my prostate. His weight on top of me, more kissing, moving slowly and not going very deeply, but feeling surrounded by him, outside as well as inside. I started to forget the time before I'd taken him inside me. Nothing else existed but being possessed by this man, and that was fine with me.

"Kneel up, like I did."

"God, Walter, aren't you ever going to come?"

Smug grin. "Not till you're satisfied. Don't you want it, Mulder? Don't you want me to fuck you till you can't take it any more?"

In deep this time, his big hand curled around my cock again. I thrust my ass up, surrendering, not pushing back but just letting him take me, feeling him gradually pick up the pace. Oh yes, baby. Driving into me hard, really opening me up, getting past all those defenses and making me feel how much I needed him, how much I wanted him. No words from either of us, just inarticulate sounds of pleading and triumph and the harsh but beautiful cries that came tearing out of our throats as he finally, finally exploded, taking me with him, taking us someplace where there weren't two people fucking, but just one, one body and soul, just one.

*****

We spent the next day in bed, mostly, eating and making love. I gave in to Mulder's persuasions and let him call a bunch of different places that had delivery, so we had cartons of Chinese, two large pizzas, greasy subs, and a big Greek salad reeking of olives and feta, which I insisted on as a token effort at eating something healthy. Mulder muttered darkly about cholesterol but did really entertaining things with the black olives.

I was actually kind of relieved the day after that when he said he needed to go back to his apartment for some things. "All right, Mulder, but like I said, I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm driving." He didn't argue; he just put on a country music station and annoyed the hell out of me by singing along with half the songs. Singing is not one of Mulder's many talents. Hell, I can carry a tune better than he can. And the goofy country accent he was faking didn't help, either.

We went back to Mulder's, threw out a dead fish, fed the ones who were still alive, and carried out too many smelly bags of trash. He kept humming some obnoxious Garth Brooks song and digging around in corners and not telling me what he was looking for. "Hey, Walter," he said.

"What?"

"What happens if you play a country song backwards?"

"What?"

"Your dog comes back, your wife comes back, and your truck comes back."

I took off my glasses and scowled at him to keep from laughing. It wasn't so much the joke that was funny as the look on his face, a look of manic gleefulness that was pure Bart Simpson or pure Mulder.

"What the hell are you looking for, anyway, Mulder?"

"My basketball. I thought we could go over to the court and get together a game."

"I wish you'd told me. Lucky I wore shorts."

He came over and ran a finger along my waistband. I tried not to flinch--being ticklish around the middle is one of my best-kept secrets. "You look so good in these shorts, Walter, I wanna take them off you right now." He brushed his lips across mine and that dangerous finger slid back across my abdomen. Distracted by the kiss, I flinched. Bad move.

"Oh, are we ticklish?"

"No!"

"I bet you are--"

Those long fingers dug into my muscles, and in two seconds it was all over. I was lying on Mulder's couch, laughing hysterically, with no chance of stopping until he got up off of me and left me alone. He wasn't laughing while he was tickling me, though--just looking at me with that intense focus he uses on the things that matter most. It was frightening, actually, being tickled by someone with a perfectly calm and centered expression on his face.

I finally managed to push him away. He sat down on the end of the couch, watching me while I struggled to get my breath back.

"Mulder, you're a sadist."

"I'm a psychologist. And that was a fascinating display."

"Mulder, you're creeping me out. What am I gonna do with you?" I flipped the hair off his forehead. He smiled, a warm goofy Mulder smile.

"Go to the pharmacy and get some things while I look for my basketball. Root beer, Motrin, condoms, that kind of thing."

He persuaded me to leave him alone, dammit. It took no more than 45 minutes to drive to the CVS, spend way too much money for the weird selection of items he insisted we had to have, then drive back. I was actually looking forward to shooting some hoops, maybe impressing a few stringy young jocks with how well this old geezer could play. And when I got back, Krycek was there.

*****

They never knew I was in the apartment. Nobody sees me if I don't want to be seen, or hears me if I choose to be silent. I hid in the shadows and heard everything. I even knew they fed the fish, which I had already fed when I came in, but that food was probably all eaten already. I heard the laughing and was pretty surprised that it was Skinner who was ticklish and that Mulder had the nerve to tickle him. And I heard Skinner go out, leaving Mulder singing some weird shit-kicking tune that started out, "You done stomped on my heart and you squashed that sucker flat."

He did fight me this time, a little, but it still didn't take much to overpower him. If he ever really fought me, of course, I wouldn't have a chance, but we both know he'll never do that. I grabbed him from behind while he was bent over in a corner and got my hand on one arm, his other arm looped in mine. Having only one arm tends to make that arm exceptionally strong. Having a gun handy at all times also helps. He struggled and kicked and spat, "Skinner's coming back, you bastard," and finally gave up. Then I tied him up, dumped him on the couch, and prepared to have some fun.

Mulder's not really a sadist, but I am. If I couldn't get anything else out of him, I'd gladly take his pain, his anger, his submission. Just the thought of whipping him with his own belt was making my cock jump against my fly. Once I had him tied up, he cooperated without resistance, just the token pleading that tells the top the bottom really wants what he has to give. He knelt on the floor, arms bound behind his back, bent over the coffee table for support, and I teased him for a long time, dragging that fine leather belt over the back of his neck, across his shoulders, down the beautiful curve of his spine, across his hips and his ass, even tickling the soles of his feet. I teased him until he was shivering all over and practically begging me to end the torment by hurting him. I can do that. I can make him want me to hurt him. If only I could make him want me to love him, but that's not in my power.

I was determined to make this whipping even better than the last one. I cherished every mark I made on his skin. The sounds of the blows and the noises he made were the perfect duet. I couldn't remember ever being so aroused, not even the first time I'd had him. It was so good that I forgot about the danger, forgot about Skinner, forgot everything but wringing the most out of this gorgeous, responsive body that I couldn't have any other way. Mulder's body was my downfall. I forgot about Skinner.

*****

The whole time he was touching me, I kept thinking, <Walter's coming back.> I said it over and over. I tried to think about how good it had been with Walter the past couple of days, but my mind wouldn't form images, bring up sensory memories. All I could do was repeat the words. Walter's coming back. Walter's coming back.

I didn't hear the door any more than Krycek did. He's good, the bastard; after a few minutes of the belt, I couldn't even remember that Walter Skinner existed, let alone that we'd had fabulous sex twice yesterday. But I heard Krycek yell, the sound of footsteps and scuffling, and what must have been some damned hard punches, then silence.

"I'm going to tie him up, Mulder. Hang on."

Effortful grunting. I just sat there and tried to breathe. Then a hand on my hair. "It's me, Fox," Walter said quietly. "I'm going to cut the ropes with my pocket knife."

I don't know how long I'd been bound, but I was so cramped and stiff Walter just about had to pick me up and set me on the couch. He grabbed the throw and spread it over me. I couldn't even pull it over myself. Krycek appeared to be unconscious; Walter had taken off his jacket and the prosthetic arm and cuffed him to the tv stand. After a moment his eyes fluttered open and fastened on me again like green highbeams; I could feel them even through the blanket. Walter sat next to me and leaned in close so he could speak without being heard.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm all right."

"Just say the word, Fox, and I'll end it. I won't have any regrets about putting a bullet through his head." I looked at the set of Walter's jaw and knew he meant it. I shook my head.

"I don't want you to kill him." I met those gorgeous, deceiving green eyes. "That's not the revenge I want."

Walter's jaw tightened further. "What do you have in mind?"

I realized I was grinning like an idiot at Krycek, who was listening to every word despite how quietly we were talking. "I want to show him how it could have been between us if he weren't such a bastard and I weren't such a pervert."

I turned to Walter, who licked his lips. "I want you. Here, now. With him watching. I want to take you."

Slowly, Walter's face relaxed a fraction. "You mean you want to top me."

"Yes."

He looked over at Krycek, who was still watching both of us. In spite of everything, the bastard had a bulge behind his zipper. And he was still dangerous. "It'll be up to you," Walter said quietly. "No backseat driving on my part, like I've been doing."

"I know. And after you, him."

Walter's eyes narrowed, sparking. "You want to fuck Krycek?"

"I want to top Krycek. I want to prove that I can."

To my surprise, Walter cracked a grin. "I bet you can, Fox. I bet you can."

I threw off the blanket, got up, and sauntered over to Krycek. I was just beginning to get hard from talking about what I wanted to do. I stooped in front of him and just looked at him for a moment. Let myself run my eyes over him, top to toe, the way he'd so often done to me. "I hope you enjoy this, Alex," I said conversationally.

"You let him call you 'Fox'." His voice was husky, almost wounded. I nodded.

"Yes, I do. And I call him 'Walter'."

I turned to Walter and held out my hand. After a second, he realized what I wanted and handed me the pocket knife. "Take off your clothes," I said before turning back to Krycek. From the look on Alex's face, I knew Walter was doing it. 

I opened up the pocket knife and set to work. First, I cut through the laces on Alex's shoes. The knife was nice and sharp, and I pulled the shoes off easily and peeled his socks after them. I couldn't resist flicking my finger over the sole of one foot. "So you're ticklish, too...."

I unbuttoned the jeans and worked them down his legs. He helped me. Probably determined to enjoy this scenario, if possible. He was more erect than I was. I took hold of his t-shirt and slowly, carefully, ran the knife up from the hem to the collar. I didn't mean to, but I grazed the underside of his chin on the last jerk of the knife that cut through the shirt collar. "Sorry," I said automatically.

"It's all right, Mulder," he said. "Don't worry about it."

I knew he was watching me as I applied the knife to his briefs. I was even more careful than with the shirt, starting over his thigh and holding the fabric tightly as I cut through the elastic waistband. I really didn't want to hurt him, though God knows he deserved it. I tried not to think, for the moment, about how good his skin felt under my fingers, or the way the smell of him, his fear and arousal, made me dizzy.

Finally I looped my belt around his ankles and secured it tightly. I made sure all his clothes and the gun were at a more than safe distance from him. Walter was sitting on the couch, naked, half-hard, watching me every bit as intensely as Alex was.

<Okay, Mulder. This is the test, the big one. You know Walter's willing. Do it. Take him. Do this, and you'll get Alex out of your blood. Forever. Hopefully.>

*********

I couldn't believe this was happening. Yeah, I was an idiot and got caught at it, but Mulder cutting off all my clothes and leaving me naked to watch him top Skinner? I thought my sexual fantasies were weird. No, actually, my sexual fantasies are painfully vanilla compared to my real life.

Mulder stood in front of the couch for a moment, stroking his dick and staring into space. He had that lost-in-space/lost-in-thought look I remembered, the one that comes right before the big intuitive jump that makes sense of everything in a totally bizarre way. He's cute when he does that, even if he's wearing clothes. Naked, well, let's just say I was more sorry than ever that I only have one hand to work with.

Then Mulder turned to, more like turned *on* Skinner and said, "Suck it, Walter."

Walter Skinner, who a couple minutes ago was more than ready to blow my pathetic brains out, getting down on his knees to suck cock. Now I *have* seen everything. He took the glasses off and put them aside. He doesn't look a whole lot more approachable without them. Then he cupped Mulder's balls in one hand and started kissing around the base of his cock, the soft dark hair low on his belly, the curls on his thighs.

"I said *suck* it!"

I can't believe the snap in Mulder's voice. And Skinner obeys, to the letter: He sucks the whole thing in, all the way in. Mulder sways, grabs Skinner's shoulder. So would I. My cock twitches as I watch Skinner work his mouth. Both men have their eyes closed, and it looks like they've forgotten about me and my bruises.

Skinner pulls back after a minute, kisses the head softly, licks at it with little flickering motions. He still remembers I'm watching. Mulder moans, and Skinner takes just the head of Mulder's cock in his mouth once again and sucks noisily. Judging by those noises and by the look on Mulder's face, his technique is good. Mulder's toying with his own nipples, now, ruffling the hair on his chest, and thrusting gently but steadily into Skinner's mouth. The man is so damn uninhibited once you get him going. Wanton, even. I loved that in him.

Skinner's hand shifts backward between Mulder's thighs, and Mulder's other hand goes to Skinner's shoulder. "No. Put your hands down." Skinner does, at the same time leaning back so he can lap at Mulder, at the whole neatly curved length of him, at the tight balls. Abruptly Mulder pulls up on Skinner's shoulders--the old man's torso is a tight triangle, wide shoulders and narrow hips and every muscle standing out in relief--and guides him down onto the couch. Skinner folds his arms behind his head and Mulder drapes himself over the man like a blanket. What does it feel like, I wonder, to have that long, lanky body covering you? Does it feel as good as having him underneath you, writhing with every touch?

He frames Skinner's face in his hands and kisses him fiercely. Skinner's big hands wander up and down that elegant back. Skinner's gasping for breath, and so am I, just about, when Mulder lets go and starts working his way down the older man's body. Nipping at the corded neck. Brushing his lips all over the broad, hairy chest. Giving the small nipples the full treatment, lips, teeth, tongue, and more tongue. It gets to the point where I can almost feel that sensuous, pouty mouth on me, and more and more, I hope that I will.

Now Skinner is definitely starting to forget that I'm here. At first, only small sounds escape his control, little "mmm's" that might be enjoyment or discomfort. As Mulder kisses his way down the man's belly, the sounds get louder, deeper, less controlled, until Mulder's fingers curl around that big organ and his lower lip just caresses the underside. Skinner moans helplessly, mouth open, and the wickedest smile I've ever seen crosses Mulder's face, just for a second. Then he lets go of Skinner's dick and starts working around it, doing what he wouldn't let Skinner do to him. Nuzzling the man's pubic hair. Tickling his thighs. Licking the big balls with steady strokes, like a dog drinking water. Skinner's raising his hips, shoving that big cock into the air, but air is all that's touching it. Mulder sits up and runs his hands along the backs of Skinner's thighs, over his ass and around to his hips, back and forth across his chest and shoulders, and finally just the fingertips trickling back down his belly to his cock. Skinner shudders as one finger trails up the underside to the head and dabbles in the considerable pool of pre-cum there.

"Turn over," Mulder purrs. Moving slowly, with difficulty, Skinner does. I wince sympathetically as he settles down on his stomach, his cock pressed against the leather surface of the couch. Mulder stretches out over Skinner, massaging his neck and shoulders. He looks so absorbed in what he's doing that I think he's forgotten me, too, for the moment. Skinner's back is as impressive as his front, and Mulder takes his time moving down it, more touching than kissing this time. Sometimes kneading the heavy muscles, sometimes tracing patterns on the skin with his fingers. Taking his time getting to the firm, hard ass that juts up off the couch, the ass that he's planning to fuck in a little while.

I swallow hard. My own cock is dripping from watching all this; I don't know whether it's worse to be naked, exposed, or to have it bound up in briefs and jeans, struggling to get out. I start to worry that *I'm* going to be making some noises I can't control, especially when Mulder spreads Skinner's cheeks and runs a curious finger between them.

*****

He is an incredible lover. Truly. I hadn't realized how much he was holding back, waiting for my initiative, when we made love. It just didn't make sense for maverick, kooky, pain-in-the-ass Mulder to be so shy in bed. I'm not sure that it was all Krycek's fault.

I wanted Krycek to see this. I'd never done anything like this, wouldn't have believed I was capable of it, but I wanted him to see it. To see me kneel and go down on Mulder. Lay back and just yield to Mulder, to the thorough, thoughtful exploration of his hands and mouth. God, that mouth. He could have had a career in porn with that mouth. Maybe he does, in his copious spare time.

I said nothing. He did everything. He did it perfectly. The rest of the room, the rest of the world, went away; it was just me and him, his hands and mouth on my skin. I felt every hair being stirred. I felt every individual nerve ending respond. I felt helpless and loved feeling that way. I started to understand something Scully had said once: "When you take me in your arms and kiss me, Walter, there's a moment when I'd let you do anything. No matter how dangerous, or violent, or bizarre. And if I didn't feel certain that you'd never abuse that power, I'd shoot you rather than let you touch me again." When Mulder had me turn over on the couch, I felt that. He had a power over me that had nothing to do with relative size and strength. He'd always had it. He was just now learning how to use it.

I think I wasn't the only one who moaned when Mulder first touched my asshole. He paused, his finger just resting on the opening. "You like that?" A question not just for me, but for the man watching us, who bit back a whimper. I tried to nod.

"Uh-huh."

"You want me to fuck you, Walter? Is that what you want?"

I turned my head so I could be heard better. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

I hesitated. "Yes, Fox." A few feet away, Krycek sucked in air sharply.

That teasing finger stroked over me again, dipping down behind my balls. The whole room reeked of horny men by this point. I bit back a whimper when he took his hand away to search for the lubricant. It was cool on my hot skin as he drizzled it over me, and then his finger went inside me, cool and hot at the same time. No hesitation. Right in there and right for my prostate. I bucked underneath him as a surge of pleasure brought me right to the verge. I was trembling as he withdrew and pressed in, fucking me very gently. And two slick fingers went into my ass.

He tortured me for I don't know how long with that slow, easy fucking, opening me up, rubbing the gland. He made me whimper, made me beg him for more. I heard him chuckle and then he slipped three fingers in, more torture. Making me move with him, push against him, try to fuck myself on those fingers that never pushed too fast or too hard. At last, getting past all the barriers. At last. I nearly sobbed when he got up off the couch.

"I want you on your hands and knees, on the floor."

Feeling like I'd been drugged, I did what he wanted. I let him turn me so that I was facing Krycek. I looked into those disgustingly beautiful eyes, saw how helplessly turned on the bastard was, and thought that maybe this *was* better than blowing his brains out. Poor bastard was as hard as I was and couldn't even jerk off.

I heard Mulder unwrap the condom and thought, <Thank God.> I needed him in me, needed him to bring me off. Anything, Fox. Anything you want.

*****

It was easy, so much easier than I thought it would be. I rummaged around inside myself for what I was feeling, and it was anger. Hot white anger, a radiant ball of it. Anger at Krycek, and at Skinner and Scully, too. Anger at everything. Anger at myself, at all the traps I'd built and hidden in.

How to get out of the trap? Fucking Walter was one way, maybe. Fucking Alex, not because he wanted it, but because *I* wanted it. Or was I just fucking myself deeper into the trap? No way of knowing. Right now, there was just this, what I was going to do.

The anger made me steady and careful. Made me go slowly, take my time. Made me pay attention to Walter's responses, and to Alex's. Anger gives me a focus. Maybe it's the only thing that gives me focus.

And it was good. *I* was good, good for Walter. For the first time, I saw something of what the man *needs*. It's hard to imagine that Walter Skinner *has* needs, if you don't know him. In spite of having been his lover, I didn't know him well enough. As I touched him, kissed him, aroused him, I saw those needs and saw that I could fill some of them, just as he filled some of my needs, and Scully filled others, for him and for me.

But what about the needs in me that only Alex could fill?

Walter knelt on the floor, facing Alex, when I told him to. I saw him look at Alex, look him in the face, then drop his head when I touched him. His muscles are like rock, living rock. Standing between Walter's legs, I looked at Alex as I put on the condom. He was trembling all over, down to his cock. I thought of all the times I'd sucked him off, thought of feeling his mouth on my cock, finally, definitely, and then knelt and thrust into Walter hard and fast.

He made some noise that I think was more surprise than anything else. He was more than ready, and I was sure I hadn't hurt him. And it felt so good. I did it again, a hard fast thrust, and again, digging my fingers into his hips, trying to make a dent, and again, and I was fucking him, really fucking him, not holding back. Sliding in and out of the hot slick soft-walled core of him and grinding my hips against his ass, my balls brushing his. Walter grunted, or groaned, and the groaning turned into my name, Fox, Fox, he's the only lover since Phoebe who's called me that, I like the way he says it, and Krycek is biting his lip to keep from moaning right along with us, and I suddenly shove my cock all the way in and grab Walter's cock and *stroke*, and he explodes under the downward pressure of my hand, he roars, I'm absolutely silent and Krycek is whimpering, he can't help it, and when Walter's back softens and slopes downward under me, I pull out of him and walk toward Krycek.

"Your turn, Alex."

"Fox--"

I grab his jaw, smothering his mouth, stopping him from saying it. He'd never tried to call me that, not even when he was topping me. "My name is Mulder to you, Alex. Always. *Mulder*."

*****

He peels off the condom and throws it aside. He hasn't come yet. Skinner drags himself to his feet, looks at Mulder. "I need you to help me, Walter," Mulder says. Skinner nods, takes a deep breath, comes to stand beside Mulder. 

The two of them uncuffed me from the tv stand and hauled me onto the couch. I don't know who was more surprised, Skinner or me, when Mulder cuffed me to Skinner. The two of us were sitting there side by side, sweating onto the already slippery leather, with Mulder standing over us doing one of those brooding looks, and stroking himself again. Why did I never think to make him jerk off in front of me while I had the chance? I was two heartbeats away from the hottest orgasm of my life, just watching him there, and smelling all three of us mixed up with the hot leather. Whatever happened afterward, this sex would be worth it.

*****

I knelt in front of Krycek and looked into those terribly beautiful green eyes. That's what gets me, really: the eyes of a lover. I can watch porn for hours or talk phone sex and jack off and then forget about it because I've never looked into the other person's eyes. When I used to fantasize about Scully, or Walter, the thing that held me back from ever acting on my fantasies was the thought of looking in their eyes, and seeing, or not seeing, their desire.

Krycek's eyes were hot and lucid, a green heat that I can't compare to anything. His lips were parted, his lower lip bruised and swelling. His cock was quivering, wet all over with pre-cum. All I'd have to do was touch him, and he'd come. Just one stroke, maybe even just feeling my fingers tight around him, and he'd explode. I thought about doing that, whether I wanted to make him come with Walter and me just watching. And I decided I did.

I was right. His hips heaved up, shoving the slippery length of him into my hand, and I watched his face as the come poured out of him, over my hand and my wrist. His mouth opened wide, tongue curling forward, and his eyelids drooped but never quite closed. He'd fucked me from behind so many times, I didn't think I'd ever seen him come, before.

I took my hand away and wiped it off. Walter was scowling and Alex was panting, hard. I just smiled. "That's only the beginning, Alex." I took his face in my hands and kissed him.

<Bad move,> I thought. Too much tenderness. Too much desire that had had no outlet. The deeper I fell under his spell, the less he'd kissed me, the less tenderness I'd gotten from him. Yet our first time together, my first time with a man, he'd been very tender... sweet. Not the first word that comes to mind when you think of Alex Krycek, but accurate. Once, twice, a few times, he was a sweet lover. Until the first time he cuffed me.

His mouth was sweet now, as soft and yielding as mine ever was for him. I kissed him, no, fed on him, the way a young animal feeds on the tit, with the same mindless hunger. His tongue was like hot velvet, but that's such an obvious comparison, it doesn't do him justice. It was so good to kiss him that it hurt, and I didn't want it to end.

I realized that Alex was whimpering into the kiss, and that maybe it *did* hurt, with that bruise on his mouth. I didn't actually want to hurt him, not physically. I just wanted him to see what we could have had. I leaned back, gently. His mouth was even more swollen than before, and the bruise was visibly darker. I touched it.

"Mulder...." The serpent probably sounded like that when he offered Eve that first apple. Soft, husky, coaxing. What are you trying to get from me, Alex? I bent forward again and licked at his mouth, at the bruise. So sweet. Do you taste that good all over, Alex?

*****

I was finally getting what I wanted. And I hadn't even known I wanted it, until just now. Mulder's mouth moving softly over my skin, finding sensitive spots I'd never even guessed at. Kissing me senseless and licking at the bruise Skinner left on my lip. Whispering over my throat and neck and bypassing the obvious spots--driving me crazy sucking on a spot right under my left ear. Brushing his mouth over my nipples so lightly it was like being kissed with a feather, a warm moist feather. Sweeping his tongue over the other bruises his lover had left behind--the old man can really throw a punch. Sweet mouth going everywhere but where I wanted it to go, pushing me back into the couch as he moved down to my stomach, my thighs.

He slipped his hands under my thighs and got my legs further apart. I was as hard now as I'd been before, all but begging him for it. God! Just his breath on the hair on my legs and my balls, and I was rigid, aching. The bastard was going to kiss and lick everywhere but my cock.

My head fell back, and I couldn't help it now, I was making a lot of noise--and he was gone. I opened my eyes to see him standing over me, eyes hooded, and in a couple of quick, vicious strokes, he brought himself off, standing there, spurting all over my chest.

*********

When I saw the naked hurt on Alex's face, the disappointment and frustrated desire, I crumpled to my knees and started crying again. Shit. How did this scene get out of my control? I meant it to be a revenge fuck, a way of getting back at Krycek by showing him what he'd missed, what our relationship could have been. And I showed him the tenderness and the need I hadn't even let myself see, and I was appalled at myself now for trying to take my pleasure at his expense. For using him more callously than he'd ever used me. Because I loved Walter and I loved Scully and still I wished Alex Krycek weren't a murderer and a traitor, and someone I loved. I loved him, too.

I realized there were hands on my head--touching and stroking my hair. I looked up and saw that both Walter and Alex were trying to comfort me with their cuffed hands. I looked into Alex's eyes, clear green and wet like my own, and into Walter's, dark and unreadable as usual, and couldn't say anything. Couldn't voice what I wanted, hoped for.

Walter sighed, and reached over with his free hand. For a second, I couldn't figure out what he was doing; he was unlocking the cuffs. He exchanged a look with Alex, a long one, and Alex nodded. Walter turned back to me. "Your turn in the middle again, Mulder." He grinned reluctantly, and Alex didn't look reluctant at all.

They didn't touch one another, only me. Pulled me onto the couch between them, turned toward Alex. That sweet mouth again, and Walter's lips on my neck and shoulders, doing what he does so well. Alex's hand, his only hand, on my cock, strong and deft, running over my balls and thighs and belly and coming back to pull at me, pull it out of me. The need to receive, and the desire to give. Walter's cock pulsing hot against my back, his hands, two hands, large and hot on my chest and down my spine to my ass. Walter kneading my ass and Alex finally, finally, kneeling in front of me, somehow not awkward but graceful leaning on one elbow as he got down, and taking me into the wet heat behind those full firm lips, his tongue wet fire all over me, his fingers splaying on my chest. If I hadn't come already, I wouldn't have lasted ten seconds with him sucking my cock. Too good, too much what I needed.... Who will I be if I get what I need?

*****

God only knows why I did it. Instinct, I guess. I wouldn't call it intuition or emotional intelligence, but I would call it instinct. Mulder needed this, and I could stand it. I didn't have to touch Krycek, just Mulder. Whatever was between those two, it needed to be cleared away so that Mulder could belong with me and with Dana.

I uncuffed Krycek. He looked startled as hell, and I looked at him, hard. <This is for him, you green-eyed bastard,> I thought. <Not for you. Do it for him, and let's make it good.> Maybe he heard me, because he nodded. We had both reached out to touch Mulder at the same time.

We got him onto the couch between us. I turned him toward Krycek, and while they were kissing, I kissed the back of Fox's neck, I love the back of his neck, and then it just... happened. I was touching him, and Krycek was touching him, and our hands covered all the right spots and never ran into each other. I concentrated mostly on the back and Krycek on the front, and between us, we drove Mulder crazy.

When I saw Krycek sink down and take Mulder's cock in his mouth, I started looking for the lube. Mulder was moaning desperately, painfully, saying Krycek's name as if he were calling on God, and Krycek was making greedy wet noises around Mulder's cock, which were driving *me* crazy even though I wasn't going to touch the bastard. I have to admit, though, they were gorgeous together; seeing that black hair against Mulder's belly, Krycek's lush lips sliding down over the head of the cock, hearing those sounds, made me sweat with arousal.

Krycek pulled back when I slipped my finger into Mulder's ass. He must have known Fox was about a heartbeat away from orgasm. He levered himself up onto the couch, watching Mulder's face with eyes as greedy as his mouth. I was up to two fingers when Krycek held out his hand, palm up. I stared for a second, then figured out what he wanted and squeezed a dollop of lube into his hand. Krycek grinned recklessly and set about slicking down Mulder's cock.

I had to get the condom on. Mulder whimpered, and Krycek turned around, leaning on that one arm, and looked at Mulder over his shoulder. "I could use a little prep here, Mulder." I got the condom on and waited for the two of them.

*****

I knew what he was doing, now. This was his revenge, all the revenge he'd permit himself. To show me what could have been, what would never been. If I hadn't topped him, to keep him at a distance; if I hadn't had to keep him at a distance; if I hadn't had my orders to fuck up his life in whatever way possible; if I hadn't, against all good judgment, decided I had to fuck him and then had to betray him....

If, if, if. Fuck that. Right now I was going to have Mulder, or rather, he was going to have me. Never thought I'd be sharing him with the old man, but I didn't care. I would take what I could get, knowing that in spite of everything, Mulder needed me as much as I needed him. In spite of everything, he wanted me and I wanted him. Maybe he even loved me....

Damned frustrating, now, having only one hand to touch him. But I felt every pore my fingers went over, every hair, every tiny blemish, and I kissed him. I'll remember the texture of his skin and those kisses. I used to not let myself kiss him because it tasted so good. Good enough to give up everything for, and I couldn't do that. Give up everything I'd worked for. Could I?

Three hands dancing over Mulder's body. Weird. Skinner kissing the back of Mulder's neck while I'm licking at his nipples, and wondering which one of us is making him moan. Tasting as much of his skin as I can get to, his chest, his belly. God, I've got to suck him off. I always wanted to, actually. Just once. Just once.

I lower myself to the floor and take Mulder's cock in my mouth. He makes this unbelievable noise, and so do I, only I've got something in my mouth that muffles it. Why did I never do this? Why did I ever let myself get naked in front of this man? Why am I doing this now? There are no answers, only the taste of him in my mouth, the taste of Mulder, the silky feel of him, the hardness, the shape. That's the only answer. <Fox,> I think desperately, while Mulder wraps his fingers painfully in my hair and says, "Alex... Alex..." sounding like he's praying. Maybe I'm praying, as I say the name he doesn't want me to say, a silent litany, over and over again in my mind.

I give him my best, give him mindblowing treatment. I don't care any more that Skinner's watching over Mulder's shoulder, that Skinner can hear the wet sucking sounds of my mouth traveling up and down that hot flesh, that Skinner can see how much I want this and that he wants Mulder, too. All I care about is Mulder down my throat and the sound of that drawly, lazy voice all tensed up with passion, saying my name. <Fox,> I think, and then he surges in my mouth, so close I think I'm pulling back too late. But no, he doesn't come. Skinner's getting him ready to be fucked. I know that take-me look on his face; I've put it there myself. This time, I want that look on my own face. I want Mulder to see it.

I hold out my hand, palm up, with a pointed look at Skinner. It takes him a moment to figure out what I'm asking, but he pours the lube into my hand without saying a word. I smooth it over the wet surface of Mulder's cock, spreading it out thoroughly; then I turn my back and, looking over my shoulder, issue the invitation.

*****

So soft inside him. I can't believe it, can't believe I'm doing it, can't believe he's letting me. Yes. Soft and hot and the tension giving way under my fingers as I smear the lubricant around. I can hear him moaning.

I curl my hands carefully around his shoulders. The scarring is still bad, ugly, on the remains of the left arm. I kiss the back of his neck, rub him with my lips, and whisper one word, "Alex," before I push into him.

"Mulder--"

So damned tight. God, so tight. My hands run down his chest, smoother than mine, I wrap my arms around his solid middle, and slowly push as deep as I can.

"Mulder--!" Alex is trembling. Walter's fingers take hold of my hips, and I shift, kneeling, to give him room, all three of us kneeling and facing one end of the couch. Something changes inside me as he presses in, fills me; something has changed irrevocably now that I'm joined with both these men.

They are still and I move. Forward. Backward. Alex. Walter. Not a sound except the sound of wet flesh on wet flesh. We must all three be holding our breath. They're waiting for me to do what I want, what I need. Walter's arms come around mine, hesitantly. Alex's hand covers my hands folded over his belly. He breaks the silence.

"You've got to hold me. I can't-- You've got to hold me."

I tighten my hold on him and thrust in a little harder. Alex makes a sound, the sound a man makes when he's being fucked. I've never fucked him before this and I'll never fuck him again. Walter is a steady presence inside me, anchoring me as I move, his weight holding both me and Alex upright.

I don't want it to end. I fight the urge to fuck harder, fuck faster, explode right now. Forward and backward, Alex and Walter, wet yielding heat and hard hot solidity, and I, I'm the middle, I'm always in the middle. This is so good I'll die of it. I don't care.

I lose control, eventually. I lose control when Alex takes my hand and puts it on his cock. "Yesss," I hiss, and faster than I can think, I speed up, Walter is silent but Alex is moaning, and then it happens. Everything fuses. Blackness, whiteness, same thing. Pleasure and pain. All three of us, one right after another. It hurts. I need it. Alex, I'm sorry. I don't remember....

When I can think again, we're still joined, sagged against the couch. The smell of semen is almost nauseating. Alex moves away first, and I let him. Walter kisses my neck and withdraws. It just now hits me that I wasn't wearing a condom. I fucked Alex bare, which I've never done with anyone in my life.

Alex gets up and heads for the bathroom, faster than I can even think. Walter disengages from me, but Alex is back before Walter can go after him. He picks up his jacket, and for a moment, I freeze; his gun is right there. He just holds out the jacket at arm's length and mutters, "At least you left me this."

Running my hands through my hair, I stumble to my feet and go dig in a closet. I come back with a shirt and sweatpants I think he can wear, and an old pair of sneakers I was going to give away anyway. He doesn't bother to turn away as he straps on the prosthesis, then struggles into the clothes. For the first time, he looks awkward, but I can't do anything about it. I know he won't let me help him. He shrugs on the jacket, pockets the gun, and I say nothing. I'm standing there watching Alex, my eyes stinging with tears I refuse to let fall. Walter is still sitting on the couch behind me. Alex Krycek dresses, pockets his gun, and walks to the door of my apartment. I follow him. He opens the door for himself, looks over his shoulder at me. "I'll be back," he says softly. Not a threat. A promise.

"I know."

He closes the door and is gone.

*********

I got back in town on Easter Monday and went over to Walter's for dinner. Mulder was there already, wearing a t-shirt with a Roswell alien on it and drinking a beer. He let me in, grabbed me with one arm, and gave me a long, yeasty kiss that made me thirsty for what he was drinking as well as for him. I took the bottle of Guinness out of his hand and drank most of what was left in it--like drinking a loaf of bread, as my dad used to say. Mulder bent down and licked the brown foam off my lips before I could wipe it away.

"There's more in the fridge," he said, grinning, and followed me into the kitchen.

Walter was busy at the stove; pots were boiling, the microwave humming, the radio on to a jazz station. At the sound of our footsteps, he turned around, smiling and wiping his hands on a towel; then he picked me right up off my feet and kissed me thoroughly. When he put me down, I took a deep breath and moved slowly and carefully toward the fridge for that bottle of Guinness. Dinner smelled great, but after two hugs, two kisses, I was ready to tear off my clothes and get laid on the kitchen counter. <This is really bad, Dana,> I chided myself. <A couple of days away from these guys, and you're worse than a cat in heat.> Both of them were grinning at me like they knew exactly how I felt. They probably did.

"How's your mom?" Mulder asked.

"She's fine." I popped open the Guinness. "She asked about you." Mom would never say so, but she'd be totally thrilled if Dr. Dana Scully became Mrs. Fox Mulder. She has no idea how wacky he is.

Mulder got another beer. "She would." Walter took a pan of what looked like scalloped potatoes out of the oven, poked them, frowning, and stuck them back in.

"Did you go to church?" Walter asked. I sighed.

"All four services. Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil, Easter morning." I shrugged. "Mom was happy. And the symbolism and everything is very moving." I remembered something and tried to keep my voice casual. "Especially when the priest plunges the candle three times into the baptismal font and prays for the Holy Spirit to fructify the waters."

I watched Walter's and Mulder's faces as they tried to visualize what I had just described, got it, and reacted to it. "Candle sex," Mulder said finally.

"Essentially." I leaned against the counter beside Mulder. He looped an arm around me and started kissing my neck.

"Save it till after dinner," Walter growled. He opened the oven again and produced a nice-looking piece of roast beef. "I slaved over this meal, and it's going to be eaten."

It was a real "guy meal": roast beef, scalloped potatoes, green beans, Guinness. They forced me to eat the fudge ripple ice cream afterward, taking turns spooning it past my lips and telling me to "lick the spoon thoroughly, Dana, that's it, lick it *all* over." Something good must have happened while I was away; Mulder seemed amazingly cheerful, and even Walter was in a lighter mood than usual, both of them joking and flirting. At last I pushed back my chair decisively and said, "I'm going to go take a shower. I feel grungy after driving all day."

I left them talking about some basketball game and got a fresh towel from the linen closet. Walter's bathroom is darkly colored and smells stereotypically masculine; I get a kick out of occasionally using his soap and shampoo instead of the supply of my own that I've started to keep there. I have things at Mulder's now, things at Walter's, they both have things at my place. Somehow it works.

I was lathering up my hair when a shadow crossed the shower door. The door scraped open a crack and a hazel eye twinkled at me. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

I stepped back and let Mulder get under the spray. He tilted his head back, showing off that beautiful throat; it was so good just to look at him, naked, skin glistening under the running water. He shook back wet hair and smiled. "How 'bout if I wash you while you work on your hair?"

I smiled back. "Okay."

He rubbed the big bar of spicy-smelling brown soap between his hands until they disappeared under the suds. Then he started with my shoulders and smoothed the lather over me. Into the hollows of my armpits as I massaged my scalp. Over my breasts, teasing the nipples with those deft long fingers. Down my ribs and around to my back. Kneading my buttocks with slippery hands. Getting fresh suds and sliding his hand between my thighs, soaping up my pubic hair and circling around on my clit.

"I think you're wet here already," he whispered teasingly. I gave him a haughty look and slithered past him without a word so I could rinse. He watched me, rubbing the bar of soap over his own chest and belly, while I rinsed out my hair and washed the lather from my skin. By the time I was finished, he was coaxing his erection along with soapsuds, eyes glittering. I squeezed the excess water from my hair and met that glitter with some of my own.

"Did I get all the soap off?" I purred, running my fingers through the wet curls over my mound. Mulder knows when to take a hint; he quickly rinsed his hands off and then sank to his knees in front of me and nuzzled my breasts while those wonderful fingers went exploring into my folds. I leaned back against the wall, sighing, and propped my foot on the side of the tub, moaning softly as his tongue followed his fingers and his fingers slipped inside. His other hand wandered back to my breasts, and he soon had me screaming with delight, letting out all the frustration of a week without either of my talented lovers.

Mulder practically had to carry me out of the shower. He shut the water off, and Walter opened the bathroom door and stuck his head in. "You started without me," he mock-growled. I grinned, rubbing my head vigorously with the towel.

"There's plenty more," I said cheerfully.

*********

Dana went off to slather goop on her hair and blow it dry. I do not use conditioner on the little hair I've got left. Mulder was drying himself off, whistling something and pointing his erection straight at me.

"Don't I get a chance to shower?" I complained. I quit complaining when he reached up into the medicine cabinet and took out the lube.

"Bend over the sink," he said.

"Mulder, you're a pervert," I observed, settling my elbows on either side of the basin. Actually I enjoyed watching our faces in the mirror as he took me. I'd never seen what I look like when I come.

I did take a shower after that. After I wiped off the sink. When I finished up and went into the bedroom, the two of them were snuggling in bed, talking quietly. Except that they were naked, it was a lot like those conversations they have all the time, half words, half looks and telepathy, and for a moment I wondered if they needed me here. But Mulder looked up, smiled, and turned back the covers with an elaborate gesture. I slid in next to him, and Dana slipped out and came around the bed to get in again next to me.

"Hi there," she said, snuggling up to me on one side while Mulder inched closer to me on the other. I looked from her to him and back again.

"Do you two have an agenda?"

They looked at me with the same look--a flirtatious glance through lowered eyelids that reminded, for a jolting second, of Alex Krycek. Dana's smile chased the unwelcome memory away. "Yes, actually."

She draped herself across my chest and gave me a kiss that made the hair stand up all over me, not to mention my cock. Warm fingers curled around my erection, but they weren't Dana's, they were Mulder's. Hot breath on my ear, and Mulder was kissing my neck, and Dana hadn't let go of my mouth.... They were ganging up on me. I could deal with that.

I had just enough time to draw breath when Dana did let go before Mulder kissed me and I went under again. Dana went for the other side of my neck, and Mulder's fingers wandered up and down my cock while his tongue caressed mine aggressively. I squirmed a little under the double assault but wasn't about to complain.

Mulder pulled away and Dana looped an arm around his neck and planted her lips on his. Watching that made me squirm a little more--two extremely gorgeous people in a no-holds-barred kiss. The kiss broke, and they smiled at each other and at me, and then they went back to working on me.

I thought my brain was going to explode. The two of them moving in perfect synchrony, as if they'd rehearsed what they were going to do. Nibbling on my neck and running their hands over my chest. Nibbling on my nipples and running their hands over my stomach. Mulder getting very interested in my hand while Dana trailed her tongue over my thighs, and Mulder sucking lasciviously on my fingers while Dana takes hold of my cock, and then, without any warning, they switched.

I groaned helplessly as my eyes slammed shut. I forced them open again to watch Dana watching Mulder drag his mouth up and down the side of my cock. I reached out for his hair, her breast, and she slipped away to bow her head over my crotch and just *flick* her tongue over--oh, God--

I withstood about thirty seconds of both my lovers licking and sucking my cock before I came so hard everything went black. I opened my eyes, with difficulty, and they were grinning at me smugly, arms around one another. "Give me a minute," I mumbled, and let my eyes slide shut again. Wait till Mulder was on *his* second or third erection of the night.

*****

"He's out of it," I said cheerfully. "Should we go ahead without him?"

"I don't think he'd mind," Scully returned. She climbed over Walter's knees to kneel in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I'd missed her mouth... and the rest of her, too. She smiled against my lips. "Mulder, I'd really like you to do something for me...."

"Anything, Scully."

"What you were doing in the shower...."

"Any time."

I pulled over a pillow and helped her settle it underneath her bottom. She giggled. "Any time, Mulder? In the office?"

"Sure." I stretched out on my stomach between her thighs. She spread her legs wider.

"In a motel on the road?" Her giggle caught in her throat as I breathed on her fur.

"You bet."

"In the car, on a stakeout?" I got my hands under her thighs, supporting her.

"Why not?" I replied, and swept my tongue firmly up the wet cleft of her pussy.

"Oh, Mulder--!"

I swirled my tongue around her clit, then raised my head to admire the view. "You taste delicious, Scully. And you look as good as you taste--so open...." <My red-fringed passion flower,> I thought, then <\--I'm not not gonna say that!> I bent my head and started licking her in earnest, coaxing the wet folds further open, delving into the opening to her body. Scully moaned and whimpered and writhed, and I basked in her taste and smell and her enjoyment of what I was doing. I forgot about everything else in the universe and so I jumped when Walter tapped me on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?"

I kissed him, smearing Scully's wetness across his lips, then rolled away. Walter took my place and plunged his tongue into Scully, roughly, making her scream and buck against his mouth. I've never seen a woman let go as completely as Scully does. After watching for a couple minutes, I leaned on her shoulder and cupped her breast in my hand, rolling the nipple a little more roughly than I usually do. She went off into another noisy orgasm, so I worked on both breasts with fingers and lips until she actually pushed me away. Walter and I stared at her in surprise.

"Even I need to recover, once in a while." She stretched and smiled. "You two can carry on without me for a moment."

Walter looked at me across Scully's beautifully relaxed body. "You think that was an order, Fox?"

"I think it was, Walter."

"You bet it was," Scully put in. Walter nodded.

"Good, 'cause I want to fuck you, Mulder."

Thank God. I rolled over on my stomach and pillowed my head on my arms, facing toward Scully. She had already perked up and was obviously planning to watch the proceedings.

Walter did not jump right into things, unlike I had in the bathroom. He closed his teeth over the nape of my neck and took it slowly from there. All the way down my spine with excruciating thoroughness. Soft, wet kisses with the occasional bite. I kept closing my eyes because it felt so good, and opening them to meet Scully's eyes like blue flames. Walter kissed one buttock and then the other and then spread them apart with his hands. And stopped. I drew in a tight breath.

"Please, Walter, don't stop."

His tongue flicked over my asshole delicately. Once. Twice. I jumped both times, my cock thrusting painfully into the sheets. Scully kissed my arm. He brushed his lips up and down the cleft, drew back, nuzzled my balls. "Walter, please...."

"Don't come," he warned, and thrust his tongue hard where I wanted it.

"Jesus!"

He held onto my hips and did incredible things with his mouth. It was like being french-kissed, essentially. I had another one of those times when I thought I might be coming without ejaculating, what I felt was so intense. I almost went over the edge when Walter replaced his tongue with one slick finger; how did he get the lube out and use it without my noticing it?

"Yes, Jesus, Walter, don't make me wait any longer--"

I got up on my hands and knees and thrust my ass in his face, begging him for it. He went from one finger to three in one careful move, and then it was his cock gliding into me, over the gland, filling and taking me. I threw back my head and more or less screamed.

Scully's mouth covered mine, a fierce hungry kiss that made me shudder. Walter pulled out, not all the way, and pushed back in, and Scully bit my neck and I groaned. Her tongue swiped my ear. "God, Mulder," she breathed, "you're so beautiful when you're being fucked."

I dropped my head and rolled with it, the smooth hard thrusts that pushed me forward, the heat of Scully's eyes, watching Walter take me. This was good. What I needed, wanted. His hand curled around my erection, and I screamed, breaking into an unbelievable falsetto, and coming like a geyser, lost and completely happy.

*****

I hadn't really watched them before. I couldn't take my eyes off them. I actually felt envious: They could fuck me, but I couldn't fuck them, and they could fuck one another. Probably the only time in my life I've wished I were a man.

Mulder looked so beautiful I had to tell him. All that vulnerability of his out in the open, exquisite because he was safe, he was safe here with us. And seeing Walter's cock moving in and out of Mulder's beautiful taut ass made me want to be fucked even more desperately than I already did, which was pretty desperate. I started having thoughts of taking on both of them at once.

They came together, Mulder's voice rising and breaking in an ecstatic scream, Walter groaning in his chest as he always did, loud and deep at the same time. I felt a little disappointed as I realized that I was going to have to wait for both of them to recover. But once they separated, they tugged on my arm and my leg and got me in between them so they could both lie on me, which was pretty nice.

I was drifting off to sleep when I felt gentle touches on my breasts and thighs. I took a deep breath and looked down at two heads poised over me, both of them nibbling on my breasts, and felt a hand I was sure was Walter's nudging my legs apart. Lovely. I arched my back and spread my legs invitingly, getting two very similar grins. "Still interested?" Mulder asked.

"I think she's interested," Walter observed. I moved in response as he pressed two fingers into me.

Mulder propped himself on one elbow, taking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You're the only one who hasn't gotten fucked," he said. "So tell us what you'd like."

I thought for a moment, then allowed the words out. "I want both of you. At the same time." I glanced through my lashes from Mulder to Walter. "One in front and one in back."

Four eyebrows raised simultaneously. "Dana, are you sure?" Walter asked. "Have you ever done that before?"

"No," I admitted, "but I'm sure I want to try. It looked like fun. And I know you'll stop if I have to ask you to." I smiled winningly. Hard hot flesh was poking eagerly into both my thighs now.

"Turn over on your stomach, Scully." I obeyed. Mulder rustled around a bit, then stretched out beside me again. "Spread your legs a little more--good. Okay, now this is going to be cool. This is my finger. Tell me how you're doing, okay?"

Cool moist fingertip stroking over my anus, delicately. I wiggled a bit. "Feels good."

"Hmm?"

I batted the pillowcase aside, repositioned my head on my arms. "Feels good."

"Good. Now I'm going to put just the tip of my finger in. Okay?"

"I won't break, Mulder."

"I want you to like this," he said sternly. I heard a squelching sound--he must have applied more lube--and then felt him press in. It felt kind of odd, but the muscle gave more easily than I'd thought it would. I was just so relaxed, all over; this seemed like the perfect time to try this.

"How's that?"

"Fine... you can go in a little further." He did. "Wait, stop--" Mulder waited, moving his finger in a tiny circle. I felt myself loosening up. "Okay.... More, please."

Walter leaned over and kissed my shoulder. "You don't have to do this, Dana. Whatever you want is fine."

I rocked my hips from side to side. Mulder's cautious finger slipped in deeper, and my breath caught. "I want this. I want both of you. I want it in the ass, like you two--oh!"

The wet finger sank in up to the knuckle. "How's that?" Mulder asked.

I chuckled weakly. "Different." I rotated my hips slightly. "Oh, but good--"

Walter sat up, and I felt the familiar broad touch of his fingertip on my clit, pressing and circling. I cried out at the sudden increase in tension; he rubbed hard, and my muscles clenched around Mulder's finger, rippling along it-- I came in a hard burst and lay there panting, trying to process the fact that having something in my asshole had made an orgasm more pleasurable and more intense.

Mulder moved his finger again, circling. "You're loosening up, Scully," he said huskily. "Are you gonna let me fuck you in the ass?"

"I think I am, Mulder." Walter touched my clit again, quickly, and I squirmed.

"I'm going to try two fingers now...." It was almost painful, feeling that finger slide out; it was right on the verge of pain to feel him try to replace it with two fingers. But Mulder went slowly, so slowly and carefully, responsive to every tensing of my thighs, every hitch of my breath, and Walter kept teasing my clit, sending ripples of pleasure through my cunt to my anal muscles. There's a reason men get off on this; the anus is just as responsive to sexual pleasure as the vagina, if you approach carefully and allow it to happen.

I don't know how long it took for Mulder to get three fingers comfortably in me. He made it clear to me that he wasn't going to give me his cock unless he could do that. We took our time, and we did it. I shoved helplessly against those slick fingers as Walter pinched my clit mercilessly, sending one shockwave after another through my system. Clit, cunt, asshole, spine, feet, brain, everything was connected in one big spiral of pleasure. He drove me to a scream with thick fingers sliding into my gushing cunt, his thumb staying on my clit. I was so distracted by the gold sparks behind my eyelids that I barely heard him say to Mulder, "I think she's ready."

Walter got up off the bed and headed for the bathroom. I vaguely heard water running. Mulder rolled me onto my side, my back toward him. My ass was tingling sharply, but I wasn't going to stop now. He eased gently into me, hot and cold at once, cool lubricant over heated flesh going into heated flesh, and I moaned, all the resistance going out of my body with that sound. He was not much thicker than his fingers had been, but longer, he went deeper and deeper and I felt pierced, split open, oh God, what would it be like to have Walter in me, too?

I was shaking helplessly despite Mulder's grip on me. Walter had come back and joined us, and now he inched closer to me, panting, lifted my leg and drew it over his hip. Mulder shifted and I shifted and Walter surged in, not holding back, oh *God*--

For a few seconds, my whole body was one fierce hot fist closing tighter and tighter around twin intrusions, gripping and gripping. And when the grip released, something unwound like a coiled whip, spiraling outward from my core to my extremities; my fingers and toes and my hair caught fire, I couldn't move or breathe, I went rigid in the blast of the strongest climax I've ever had, and as soon as it faded and I could think move breathe again, I sucked in lungfuls of air and shouted, "*Fuck* me, dammit!" which they did for perhaps sixty seconds before we all went over the edge together.

*****

I had thought Walter was tight. I had thought nothing could feel like fucking Alex. Scully was tighter, hotter, wilder with the pleasure of it. And then it got even better when Walter took her. I could *feel* the size of him, just about feel him throbbing, as though we weren't separated by a wall of muscle but were in the same space. Then Scully's muscles clamped down, and the two of us just held her as she came, silently, the contractions so strong I thought they'd just rip my cock off and suck it in there permanently, she was rigid and silent and her muscles were squeezing, rippling--

Then she gasped audibly, sounding like someone taking their first breath after ten minutes of CPR, and cried out for us to fuck her.

I looked at Walter over her shoulder, he looked at me--his teeth were bared, he looked like he was about to chew me out bigtime--and we both moved just a little bit, just a few strokes, not very hard, until Scully clamped down again, shaking, and I'm pretty sure both of us joined her in the explosion and then passed out.

I sort of remember coming to, separating our three bodies, peeling off the condoms. I staggered into the bathroom and got a towel and a wet washcloth which we passed around. I fell asleep fast, without even realizing it, Scully still wedged between Walter and me. I slept deeply and without dreams for several hours, but inevitably, I woke up.

When I felt the tears, I got out of bed and went over to the bedroom window. I drew the curtain aside, just enough to see out onto the street. Far below, a man in a leather jacket walked by. It wasn't him. The tears came freely but quietly, no sobbing, and I didn't begrudge them. They felt good. It felt good to feel.

I don't know how long I stood there, thinking of Alex, thinking of Walter and of Scully. Then I heard stirring in the bed. "Mulder?" Scully sounded sleepy. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." I wiped at my face.

"Come back to bed."

I did.

*********

END


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